The Dragon, The Thief and The Wolf
by SilverMiaWolf
Summary: Skyrim story, featuring the Companions, the Civil War, and at least one Thief. AU-ish maybe. Pre-Romance T for language.
1. Chapter 1

Hello strangers! I got to chapter 20 and decided i really needed to put in some AN's, so here I am!

I hope you enjoy reading the fic as much as i enjoyed writing it

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1<span>

"How did you and papa meet?" A voice pipes up.

The female laughs and gestures the barer over to seats. The pair settles comfortably before the female begins her story. Their movements speak of routine. The looks on their faces speak of eager anticipation.

"We actually met a year and half before 'The Legion's Mistake' as we call this particular story." The amber coloured Khajiit rumbles, "though he was near insensible with pain and I thought the furry lump was somebody else."

The youngling with silver-blue eyes scowls briefly in disbelief.

"Oh yes, mistaken identity." The Khajiit laughs. Black lips pull up over large pointed teeth, but the amusement dancing in her green eyes negates any fear in the child. Besides he is very familiar with this Khajiit.

A third person sighs with mock annoyance. "And here I thought I was the drama queen!" She cries with a flourish.

"Aunty!" The youngling yells in delighted greeting – one would think he hadn't seen her in weeks, not days – and normally he would have jumped from the Khajiit's lap to hug the half imperial around the knees, but she is currently decked out in spiky Deadric armour, a very effective deterrent.

"I'm just telling the truth." The Khajiit replies dismissively. "When _you_ are involved I hardly need to add any more drama!" she adds with a wide toothy grin. It is obvious from their easy banter that the two have known each other for many years.

The child on her lap giggles as the childish half Imperial half Breton sticks out her tongue.

"Where was I?" the Khajiit muses with mock impatience. The Imperial begins unbuckling her armour as noisily as possible so the poor child doesn't know where to focus his attention. "Ahh yeees." The Khajiit rumbles low in her chest, causing the child to giggle happily and focus his attention on her. "It was the end of Second Seed, eight years ago maybe. I remember it was a Hunters night and the twin moons were smiling."

"Hunters night?" The child parrots curiously.

"Yes... A clear night. Clean crisp air and a 'kissing' breeze." She replies before gently skimming a whiskery kiss across the boy's plump cheek. He bats her face away with another giggle. He is an intelligent child with a quick mind, much like his mother. "It was dusk, and the Elk where just beginning to move-"

"And you where hungry." The Imperial boldly interrupts with humour lacing her tone.

"Of course!" The Khajiit cried smugly. "This great hunter knew the forests of Skyrim very well by then, having hunted and travelled through them with your aunty many times." She continues softly, trying to draw her audience in. "I tread as softly in them as I do the house."

The boy grins. One of his favourite games to play with the Khajiit is hide-and-seek; she actually presents a challenge unlike his giant of father. He much prefers to play Tag or Thane's with the noisier man. And unlike many of the other children he adores it when one or both of his parents join in with their games.

"So this hunter was hunting with her trusty bow, softly following the nervous Elk. Through the trees they bounded, over a hillock and leaped a clear stream-"

"Where exactly where you?" Kara asks as she finally sits down - after stacking all her armour neatly in a chest by the front door. She is much more fastidious about putting things away now there is a child in her life.

Senka shrugs. "On the road to Whiterun, from Markarth, I was coming back from a job I think."

"That's really far!" The boy exclaims in awe.

Senka chuckles at the excitable boy. "Yeees, hence this one hunting for dinner." She pauses to shift the seven year old onto her other leg. He's large for his age, no doubt exactly as his father was too. "I had the lovely fat female Elk in my sights. My arrow was knocked and I just took in a breath-"

Wide silver-blue eyes stare wonderingly up at her. Poor boy isn't bad with a bow, better than his father, or will be in a few years at least, but does not quite have his mother's intuition either. He just loves watching her practise her archery.

"- and I shit you not a howl like a dying dragon rent the air." Senka growls loudly.

The audience mock exclaims in horror.

"This one must have jumped a straight two foot in the air and the Elk disappeared like she was made of smoke." Senka huffs indignantly.

"The one that got away." Kara muses lustily.

Senka glares. "So I approach the noise." She states unabashed. "Kara and I had by that point dealt with near every enemy you could think of... Wolves, bears, drauger, bandits, dragons, spiders, vampires, Dwarven mechanics, marauders, falmer, forsworn and their oblivion sent Hagravens, ghosts, witches, skeletons, spriggans and Deadra-"

Kara laughs bitterly. "Don't forget the Dragon Priests."

"Near enough everything." Senka sighs in agreement. A poke on her nose brings her back to the present. Concerned eyes peer up at her. "Separately and together we have dealt with them all, sweetie."

"What did you find?" He asks in a whisper.

"A werewolf."

The child, and Kara, but she acts like a child a lot of the time anyway, gasp theatrically.

"Surrounded by three muscular men; one already had his guts hanging out, but the other two had sliver swords flashing and hate on their faces." Senka wildly flails an arm in an approximation of a sword slice. Kara winces. The Khajiit never got the hang of swords. "At their feet I spot a hulking furry mass. It was growling weakly even with its blood staining the grass around it."

The boy wrinkles his nose, totally enthralled.

"I thought it was Kara – I have seen her form once before – in Dawnstar when we were set upon by three frost trolls, but that is another story altogether." Senka groans. Some of the shit they went through is unbelievable. It is amazing they are still alive.

"All werewolves are dark in colour." Kara explains to the nonplussed boy. "I've never seen a blonde one. Aela has a reddish tint to her fur, like her hair, and Kodlak had a bit of silver around his muzzle, but that was just his age showing."

"I did not even think about my next action; I just finished off the silver hand members." Senka rumbles quietly. "Even if I had known that werewolf wasn't Kara I would have saved it. The Silver Hand is a terrible group of fanatics." She confides.

There is a pause of quiet before the Khajiit shakes herself.

"It was getting dark by then I remember but I could still see the murky pool of blood... I circled around the werewolf so it could see me..." She continues.

Kara reaches forwards to squeeze the Khajiit's hand in reassurance. "He's fine sister."

"He wasn't then." she chokes out hoarsely. "There were so many gashes! And a few stab wounds though they didn't pierce anything vital, thank Nocturnal. His face and left arm were smashed up and there was a stream of blood coming from his nose..."

Little arms wrap around her neck and squeeze lightly. Senka squeezes the little body back briefly.

"His breathing hitched too, so I knew he had at least one broken rib." She continues. She takes a moment to bury her nose in her son's hair. Their little miracle. "As soon as he opened his eyes I knew it wasn't Kara. There was still human intelligence there, but no recognition, and of course the ring of colour around the iris was wrong for Kara."

Mother and son both look over to see big twinkling brown eyes looking back.

"It is hard to believe but I just started to recite all the injuries I thought it had sustained and handed over every healing potion I had in my pack." Senka shivers. "I returned in the morning and it was gone."

She hands the child to his aunt, thankful for the reprieve; he is too big to have on her lap now, sadly. He will be taller than her by the time he hits his early teens. In fact she won't be surprised if he ends up as tall as his father and uncle. One of the few things her husband contributed to their son, aside from the icy blue of his eyes.

"I never forgot that night." Senka says after a long silence. "I did not really think about it much after realising it wasn't Kara; wondered if the werewolf was alive a couple of times, but real life intruded, and I mostly forgot about it."

Kara glowers. "Then the Civil War erupted."

Senka opens her mouth to reply but heavy familiar footsteps outside the house halt her words. The boy wriggles off of his aunt's lap in seconds and disappears into the adjoining hallway with nary a sound.

"Papa!"

"Hey titch!"

There is a pause of quiet, a heavy metallic thud, and then the child's father's huge bulk fills the doorway, their son giggling from behind him somewhere.

"Hello love, Harbinger." Farkas greets with a beaming smile.


	2. Chapter 2

My first follower of this story: SneakyTurtle - loving the name btw - you made me smile so big :D

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

"Husband." Senka purrs, "Just in time." She stands on tip-toes to kiss his hairy cheek but even then he has to stoop down a bit too.

Their son's dark head peeks through Farkas' own shaggy hair, "mama is telling us how you met." He whispers brightly into his father's ear.

Farkas grins. "I remember; it was a hunters night-"

Senka laughs richly while Kara sighs with exasperation and the child laughs. "We already heard about that part." The child informs the Nord.

"Oh? Whiterun then." He states absently as he pulls their boy over his shoulder by an ankle. Gently of course, Farkas has long learnt to control his strength, even if their boy doesn't mind rough-housing.

"Not quite there yet." Senka states. "This one needs some background information first." Fondly she tickles the squirming child's stomach causing happy shrieks. Farkas lowers him to the floor after a few seconds and sits at the table.

Before she continues the story however Senka produces five bowls of leek and venison stew.

"You know I was the Guildmaster for the thieves just ten years ago?" Senka rhetorically asks the room at large; Kara was there the day she joined up, Farkas knew the day they met, and their child was told when he turned five which was two years ago.

Now Senka addresses the child. "Before that I travelled with Kara for a couple of years, helping her defeat the dragons, and other important missions." He is nodding along with bright interested eyes. "Just a year after we found ourselves in Skyrim Kara joined the companions. She needed help, lots of battle training, and while we learnt a lot on our adventures Kara needed _people_ to mentor her."

The half Imperial grimaces; she hadn't wanted to join the famed fighters – thought they were just fools playing at hero's, but the Blade, Delphine, the only other competent person willing to train her, rubbed Kara up totally the wrong way. In fact Kara hated the woman; wouldn't have pissed on her if she were on fire.

"Not quite six months after Kara joined the companions I joined the thieves guild." Senka continues. "All through these years the Civil war had been quietly simmering away in the background. The Dragons were so dangerous that everyone concentrated on defeating them first, but the hate was still there."

Kara huffs with long forgotten anger.

"Neither of us wanted to get involved." Senka admits. The child cocks his head, curious. "The Empire had tried to execute us at Helgen even though we obviously were newcomers to Skyrim, but the unfriendly Locals hardly endeared us to fight for the Stormcloaks."

"When I defeated Alduin, which was just over four months after Senka joined the thieves, I was hailed a hero." Kara says without pride. "And I had found my place with the companions. For a year there was peace and I was able to carry on adventuring, sometimes with Senka, sometimes with other people."

Senka smiles softly. "We stayed in touch. Wrote often even if we didn't see each other regularly." Senka grins but it wavers and falls quickly. "As Kara said, I still followed her as much as I was able while pulling the guild from the brink of collapse." She sighs. "I swear I brought in more money following Kara and doing freelance work then doing guild jobs. They still complained."

Senka finds herself transferred onto a large lap, enclosed in her husband's strong thickly muscled arms. "They are fools." He says simply, and that, as far as he is concerned, is the end of it.

"You always did get to the heart of the matter quickly, brother." Kara laughs. The child is happily squished in the chair with her.

Farkas shrugs with a smug grin; his wife and child are happy, and that's all that matters.

"No beating around the bush." Senka sighs happily. One of many reasons she fell for the hulking Nord. "After the crap we had to deal with?"

Kara lifts are arms in a 'peace' gesture. "Did I say it was a bad thing? No." She sticks her tongue out as Senka gestures rudely at her.

"Maaama! What happened in the story!" The child whines.

The three adult's chuckle. "Sorry son." Senka apologies without any real regret. "As I was saying, after Kara defeated Alduin there was about a year's uneasy peace, but in Frostfall things started going downhill..."

"While the dragons had been roaming the land Legion troops had been arriving nearly unchecked in Solitude. This frightened the locals badly and many of them went to join the Stormcloaks; their numbers swelled nearly overnight, which then scared the Legion." Kara reveals.

"Skirmishes broke out." Farkas rumbles uneasily.

"Suddenly the Civil war was back at the forefront of everyone's minds again. Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends and family all started dying." Senka muses. "And of course people thought that since she had so 'easily' rid us of the World-Eater war would be no problem for the Dragonborn."

"But she's the _dragon_born, not the _war_born!" the child bursts in crossly.

Farkas chuckles. "Yeah, that's kind of what we said."

Senka flutters a paw. "She was, still is, a hero. A symbol of strength and hope. Of power. Even now she can still Shout dragons apart." She explains.

Kara sighs. "And a consummate people helper." She laughs humourlessly. "They expected me to fix this problem just like I fixed their other problems."

There is a beat of silence. The child hugs his aunt in support.

"Not this though." Kara finally continues. "The Civil war was no place for me, us. Senka wrote me after four months to let me know that her contacts were prepared; that she'd follow me no matter which side I chose." Kara smiles sadly at the Khajiit. "She would have followed me to Sovenguarde and back if Odvahkiin had let her."

The Khajiit grins. "They never let me have any fun." Senka pouts. Farkas buries his face in her hair to unsuccessfully muffle his laughter but their child has no such compunction.

Kara is grinning again. "Her contacts scare me, honestly, and I knew that if I gave the word she would order them to cripple the other side." A strange smile twists her lips. "That was a heady realisation. Different but just as powerful as my dragon soul."

Senka shrugs shyly.

"Yet I said no." Kara states a little wistfully. She sometimes wishes she'd said yes. "I didn't want anything to do with it, plus the Companions stay neutral."

"That excuse only worked for a short time though." Senka continues. "For another few months she put them off, and in the meantime I had found my feet as Guildmaster. I kept my contacts staying up-to-date on the war's progression."

Kara groans suddenly. "And then the Legion decided they would force my hand." She scoffs.

The two females grin viciously at each other. The child flinches back and Farkas cringes even though he cannot see his wife's expression. He has only seen it once before, it wasn't even directed at him then either, but the utter destruction that ensued will never be forgotten.

"Take note, Son." Farkas rumbles. "If you ever see that grin again, run for cover." He says with total seriousness (a very rare thing, which sets the hairs on the boy standing on end).

Senka elbows her husband in the gut but softly and with no malice. "To recap son we had been in Skyrim for six years, Kara had been in the companions for five and been a werewolf for three years, and I had been Guildmaster for just about four years, give or take."

The boy nods vigorously.

Senka leans forwards. "This part of the story begins in Riften, underground, in a place known as The Ratway, which is nothing but a dank cistern warren.

In the heart of the warrens in a place called the Ragged Flagon, the drinking hole for the Thieves Guild. Behind one of the cabinets is a false door that leads to the Head-quarters of the guild."

Senka wrinkles her nose.

"I didn't sleep down there often; the smell was disgusting. In fact for three years at least I had been planning an overhaul of the guild, starting with a new headquarters... a new everything actually." Senka sighs. "I had everything in place, but when my plans were read by the rest of the Guild..."

"It was as welcome as a sword to the gut?" Farkas butts in grinning.

The three others laugh. "Exactly so, love." Senka admits.

"But you always come up with good ideas mama!" The boy exclaims. Then he frowns. "Well except for the cake for papa's name-day last year. That was awful!"

There is sniggering from Kara and Farkas as Senka ducks her head, ears pulling back, sheepishly. She sighs. "People are just generally scared of change. It causes instability, you see... I think that because I had the guild in a stable, profitable, place they didn't want do anything to risk that."

"So they gave your mother a choice." Kara speaks. "She could either leave the guild as it was, or just plain leave the guild."

Senka nods thoughtfully. "Not everyone was convinced that the status quo was ideal, but when they looked through the entirety of my plans they got scared... Of course I wasn't going to implement all the changes at once, but I don't think they realised that until it was too late."

Farkas squeezes her middle as a show of love and support even as he growls low in his throat.

"It was Vex, Niruin and Karliah that led the group. Old Delvin kept his head down – not that I blame the pervert – and Brynjolf was too scared of taking responsibility to stand up to them." Senka calmly states. It is still painful to think about, but the years have dulled the sharp edge of the knife.

"Idiot." Farkas mutters. There was always an unreasonable jealousy there.

"In the end the whole guild was against me." Senka rumbles sadly. Their poor child cannot fathom the idea. "What could I do but leave?"

"The guild was dying even with your mother in charge." Kara explains to the scowling youngling sitting next to her. "Fewer contracts were coming in, and they hadn't gotten any new clients for years."

"My contacts were either already existing clients, or preferred that I do the jobs personally." Senka adds thoughtfully. "I knew that without a re-haul the guild would die in maybe fifty years if they were lucky. So I left before I was dragged down with them."

Farkas nuzzles into his wife's neck. Even after all these years he still enjoys feeling her soft fur on his skin and her scent of fur-musk and lavender

"Because I stayed in the house Kara owned in Riften it was easy to pack two changes of clothes, my Nightingale armour, shimmied into some spare leather stuff, grabbed my weapons, enough money to last me a month at any inn and left town."

"Easy as." Kara scoffs.

"I was... I do not think I even knew what I was doing. I'd been wandering Riften for two days, lost within myself, before I couldn't take it anymore." Senka smiles assuringly at her worried son. "So I hired the first cart going to Whiterun to see my sister. We were just leaving Iverstead when the courier found me."


	3. Chapter 3

Dear readers, just so you know this story is un-beta'd, so if you find mistakes please let me know so I can correct them. Thanks!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

"Thank you." I rumble.

The courier smiles and nods before turning and running off into the inn. That one looked familiar – I'm sure it was the cap.

"Go on ten girl."

I jerk and bring my eyes up because for a wild moment I believe the cart driver is addressing me, urging me to open the wax sealed message. But no, he is only talking to the old black nag pulling the old black cart.

They both looked like they wouldn't make it through the winter when I first got to Skyrim, but here they are, six years later, still pulling us along the roads as if they're in the prime of life. It is amazing how resilient the climate makes things here.

I turn my message scroll over once again to study the seal. It's not one I see very often; Dawnstar. I get more messages from Winterhold, which is saying something.

Now thoroughly intrigued I carefully lift the seal and skim the charcoal script.

_Tomb Imperials Axe Shield_

For one terrifying moment Nirn drops away from me, yanking on my stomach, like I've once again jumped from Bards Leap **(Yes son I did do that, twice, just ask these two)**, but then the cart hits a hole in the road and I'm jolted back to myself.

So the Imperial Legion has finally cracked.

Do I win the bet? After all Kara thought Ulfric would request her presence first. I bet on the Legion asking first, though most definitely not like this. If anyone would try getting her attention with a stunt like that I would have bet on Ulfric, simply because he has the balls for it.

... Although I don't think Kara thought of a scenario involving Wuuthrad being stolen at all. Obviously I have prepared for the possibility, but that was mostly just my paranoia talking. Honestly I didn't seriously expect it to happen.

Yes that's right. The Legion raided Ysgramor's Tomb.

That anyone other than the companions went in there is near sacrilegious in of itself. But they didn't just do that, no. My contacts have been set up to inform me if the Imperial Army took anything... and they have.

Ysgramor's restored battle-axe, Wuuthrad, and his magic repelling shield, whatever it may be called.

Fools.

Didn't they learn their lesson two years ago? Never annoy a sleeping dragon, be it a massively scaly lizard, or small brunette mortal woman.

Kara, Dovakiin, Dragonborn, and most importantly, un-sided Companion, will be furious.

* * *

><p>I am in frenzied contemplation the week it takes the cart to get from Iverstead, located on the Riften side of the Throat of World, to Whiterun, the other side of the tallest mountain in Tamrial, in the middle of the plains.<p>

I am not – was not – the Guildmaster of the Thieves because of my stunning good looks. We plot and plan well beforehand; to be prepared is to be successful, and I am not full of hot air when I say that I am always successful.

The implications behind the theft of Wuuthrad are two-fold.

Firstly it is a kick to the groin for all Nords, as Ysgramor is seen as their founding father. More will flock to the Stormcloak banner for this insolence.

Secondly, and more importantly to the War at least, it is an action the Dragonborn, proud Circle Member of the Companions, of whom Ysgramor was the leader, will not be able to ignore, especially without seeming weak.

Kara is anything but.

Yet this is a strangely risky move for the more cautious Legion. Tullius is risking sending the Dragonborn straight into the arms of the enemy, the Stormcloaks. It is not a stratagem many would peg the man for.

I must admit that it concerns me terribly. I have already asked the cart driver to go faster once, offering double pay as incentive. I am afraid Kara will act without thinking, which she does fairly often if I'm honest, and get herself into major trouble, which she _always_ does.

But this could be major _treasonous_ trouble though, and while Shouting usually resolves her problems, I really don't think it'll make Treason charges drop. Imperials seem less impressed by the power than is safe.

"You look worried, cat." The driver observes without turning around. I think he has a soft spot for me secretly.

"Aye." I reply wearily. "Kara."

He snorts. "Who else?"

I laugh. "Yes, yes, I know I need to get myself a man."

"There're plenty of them, hairy too, unless that's why you're not in Elsweyr anymore?" He replies cheekily.

I laugh again but bury my face in my hands. "No I was born in Skyrim actually. I just haven't found the right man yet."

"Oh... well once you rescue Kara you come see me." The old lecher grins over his shoulder.

Some minutes later I manage to pick my jaw up off of my lap and reply. "Er thanks for the offer, but I wouldn't dare take you away from Vera."

The old nag whinnies, seemingly in agreement, but the driver only tuts and pats her rump.

* * *

><p>I am not overly fond of Whiterun. It is beautiful, as are all the Holds of Skyrim, in their own – usually chilly – ways, but this Hold is made up of <em>plains<em>.

Bad for hunting as prey often sees you coming for miles. As I am Khajiit and an archer the plains are almost offensive.

On the other hand they are not so bad for practicing sneaking; because of the flat land sneaking is much more a challenge, of which there aren't many places that do that for me. Also the giants and mammoth that frequent these plains give out a warning roar if they spot you, instead of attacking immediately, which is amazing. In fact the mammoths wont attack you unless you poke them roughly – which yes I have learnt from experience.

Hard for armies to sneak up you too. Hence why the Companions settled here; Ysgramor was not just brawn and beard.

I reluctantly (old habits die hard) hand a nice fat coin purse to my driver, much to his toothy delight, and with a heavy heart and nervous stomach (or maybe it was all the dry tack? That stuff doesn't much agree with me) I trek up the zig-zag entrance to the city gates.

I could use the 'secret' Skyforge entrance, or even skip over the walls somewhere, but I'm afraid I'll miss Kara if I do. Hell, I am afraid I've missed her already, even being two days earlier than normal travel time.

The guards peer suspiciously at me but I wave Kara's 'seal' in their faces before they even take a breath. They let me through with much hesitancy and grumbling, but at least I do get through without bother. The seal was one of Kara's best ideas ever, second only to visiting the Pelagius wing in Solitude's Blue Palace.

After her first public 'Shout' Kara became famous practically overnight, was recognised by strangers in settlements days away, while I, her staunch companion, was still being patted down every time I entered or left a city. After one nasty incident whereupon I was sent to Falkreath prison and had all our _legitimately _brought goods confiscated, Kara decided enough was enough and had a special seal made for me. The result was that it became my free pass into or out of any city in Skyrim.

It wasn't a particularly difficult thing to get done, as Kara had by then also become Thane of Whiterun and Morthal, and was actively setting out to become Thanes in Solitude, Riften and Markarth, so she had the majority of the Thanes of Skyrim recognise it. The blades refused but Kara hadn't even let them know; that letter hardly registered in her list of 'things I care about'.

It used to see a lot of action, but I rarely use it nowadays, having little need to, but sometimes – like today – the guards need reminding. I have used it on jobs, but only to get into cities, because if I'm found with stolen goods and Kara's seal it will reflect very badly on her. I don't want that for my soul-sister.

Now I foresee the seal being whipped out at every opportunity.

Whiterun is bustling as usual. Willingly I admit that it is wonderful to take a breath of clean, non-salted, non-fishy, air. I love Riften, but I am the first to acknowledge that the city stinks to high heaven even on a good day.

This town is prosperous in a way that Riften, and half the other cities, can only dream of. Whiterun is very happily cosmopolitan, while Riften, for example, is just a marketplace full of worker Argonians and Dunmer, with the occasional Nord to keep Balimund from looking like an immigrant.

Breezehome sits prettily just a few strides inside the gates. I remember that Kara nearly squealed when she realised it was being sold - because she could come back exhausted from her quests and not have to drag herself halfway across the city just to get a bed up at the inn. Neither Kara nor her housecarl Lydia is home, so I dump my packs inside the door and head back outside.

The brown-eyed Nord is alright, excellently sarcastic and caustic, yet patient, but she disapproves of my corrupting 'thiefy ways', so I generally keep our interactions short and sweet. If she isn't guarding Breezehome she'll be out helping the Whiterun guards.

Since Kara joined the companions she uses Breezehome mostly as a storage area for her most valuable or sentimental or interesting loot. Close by and with her most trusted housecarl. But her other houses are fully furnished, stocked and have money stashed in them – 'for emergencies'. I have keys to all of them, which gives this one warm fuzzy feels.

I take _Hircine's Faithful_ - my father's heirloom bow -, merely steel and Hickory wood, and a handful of elven arrows from my second back and slip them all into place on my back. I don't plan on using my bow, but I'm walking into a Hall of warriors; I need to have some kind of weapon on me just so they won't laugh at me.

From my first pack I take three notes, including the short missive from Dawnstar. With a shaky sigh I slip the papers into a small hidden stomach pocket in my leather armour. I stole that idea from a thief in Bruma my mother once worked with.

The sun is well past its zenith I note as I make my way up to Jorrvaskr. I spot a few familiar faces on the way, including the ever friendly Ysolda, who _still _hasn't bought that inn, Amren who greets me with a bright but brief grin, and the old lady Grey-mane who is looking haggard as well as old.

I have only been in the great boat-hall once, to steal the Stone of Barenziah my sources told me had been interred there for decades. I do not – did not – wish to put Kara in an awkward position if I was caught stealing, so I left well enough alone. I didn't even tell her I was in Whiterun the day I stole that particular stone. Of course she was with me when I found, or stole, the others. We even brought Proudspire manor together to get the very last damn one.

Our respective guilds know of our friendship – story telling seems to be a requirement to join the companions, and all the exciting things in my life happened with Kara – but I don't know how much more either side really knows. I certainly haven't intentionally told my lot anything intimate.

"Make eye contact and keep your chin up." I mutter to myself. "You have important information for them."

With a body wide shake I square my shoulders and head up the steps to the boat-hall. I smile sadly at the Shadowmarks adorning the right side of the wooden entrance arch. I etched them myself: Danger and Protected.

I can hear the smith is in his usual place at the ever impressive Skyforge.

Heart beating loudly I push open the heavy door and slip silently through. No one notices me, which is a slight relief, so I take the time to familiarise myself with the layout. Jorrvaskr is a massive structure inside, dominated by a large fire pit and surrounding tables. All kinds of hearty Nord food litters the tables, intersected with lots of mead. To my left on ground level is a doorway that leads to a bedroom and to my right are a set of stairs that lead to the under-ground bedrooms. The wall just beyond the stairs has brackets in an obvious Battle-axe shape.

I sigh in exasperation.


	4. Chapter 4

My second follower of the fic: Zymphonis. Much love!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4<span>

The old cleaner woman is sweeping at the base of the unlit fire pit but a creak on the stairs reaches her ears – and mine – bringing her attention to an older man, although I estimate him to be about ten years younger than she, decked out in half plate.

"Vilkas?"

"He's outside dear."

I watch on as he easily but slowly climbs the rest of the stairs - eyes briefly going to the vacant brackets, where a frown suddenly mars his otherwise pleasant features -before he turns away with a grunt and clomps across the room.

Harbinger Kodlak knows.

"Is everyone here Tilma?"

"Oh yes... Farkas and Athis came back earlier. Vilkas and Ria are outside training."

Now that I think on it I do hear the faint ringing of metal on metal that is out of sync with the smithing clangs. The names only ring with familiarity because of the adventures they accompany my sister on. I could not put a name to a face.

"Thank you Tilma."

I watch uneasily as he seats himself at the nearest table. Above his full grey beard his cheeks are hollow, and in the air I see his hands are shaking, though they stop as they touch the table. This man is ill.

Meanwhile Tilma has ponderously propped her broom up in a corner of the ground level and has carried on to the stairs and disappeared down them. My ears catch the click of a door opening and closing.

I stir then, recognising an opportunity.

Kara speaks of this man well. Refers to him as Fus Ro Dah. Force Balance Push. I wonder if he knows? But anyway she also tells me that he is something of a confidant, and has told him a little of me. Hopefully he will hear me out.

"Kodlak?"

To his credit he startles only a little and, much to my gratitude, doesn't immediately call out in surprise or for backup. His left eye is cloudy and probably blind I note faintly, but the other brightens with something a kin to familiarity.

"Kara got a note from Tullius?"

His jaw works for a second before he nods. "Late last night." He rumbles. His voice sounds like a distant thunderstorm.

Alarm crawls up my spine. "Please tell me she's still here?"

He blinks. A throaty chuckle escapes. "Only just. She is fuming."

I snort involuntarily. "This place is still standing so she's obviously learnt some restraint." I reply without thinking.

The resulting booming laugh has people popping their heads through seemingly every door in the place. Kara herself dashes up the stairs with an eager grin, which sets Kodlak laughing harder, and has me muffling a chuckle in my paw.

"SENKAAAAAAA!"

I cringe back even as I open my arms.

"Ican'tbeleiveyou'rehere!"

I find myself with arms full of half Breton and a face full of messy brown hair.

"Thank the gods you're here!" She nearly screams in relief. "Idon'tknowwhattodo. They're going to kill me." She whispers directly in my abused ear.

I give her a hard squeeze. "I got a note last week." I murmur. She pulls back enough to peek down at my eyes. "I came a.s.a.p. I've been thinking sister, do not worry."

"What the hell is this? Are we taking in strays again?" A gruff voice spits darkly.

I barely have time to register the words when the woman in my arms whips around. "Don't you dare speak to Senka like that!" She roars as she launches herself at a burly haired Nord twice my size. I think he's the smaller twin.

They both tumble to the floor, landing hard by the sounds of things, with the Nord landing on top, but Kara is punching quickly, as I taught her, and with a sickening crunch his nose breaks. He swears violently while my sister laughs in victory.

Kodlak and a darker skinned woman, possibly Ria, drags Vilkas away a little while I collect my spitting wayward sister. Her chest is rumbling in the familiar Shout charging way.

"Sister!" I laugh. "The vicious one is quite correct. I am currently a stray."

A strange silence follows my announcement, but only Kara actually understands what I just laughingly confessed.

"They-"

"Found the plans." I finish for her. Her mouth falls open in surprise. "Occupational hazard." I state with a nonchalant shrug. "I knew it was highly possible they'd find them, only I did not realise it would go down worse than a Deadra summoning."

She snorts.

"I either leave or sink with them."

Kara scowls. "But your plans were amazing. They would actually work!"

I sigh. "Too much at once I guess." I muse. "To them I am trying to fix that which is not broken."

Her scowl deepens. "Bullshit. It's been three years-"

"It doesn't matter now." I interrupt abruptly. I was going for soothing. "I was actually coming to see you when I got the note." I continue.

We stare at each other. Usually I would relent, but this time, no. I am not ready to open that basket of worms, especially in front of others, and frankly the War situation is way more important right now.

"Whoa brother, who got ya?"

The new voice is pretty quiet and barely registers in my conscious but a second later Kara huffs and breaks our staring contest. I grin but it is hollow.

"Since everyone is here, we need to have a meeting." Kodlak rumbles. Though his voice is barely raised above conversation pitch everyone snaps to attention. "Kara since this is your news..." He trails off and shifts two seats down the table, a move I perceive that brings him closer to the middle of the table and also in front of Kara. The latter denotes his elevated status in the companions, as he is closer to the fire and the best food, but his presence in front of my sister seems to calm her sudden attack of nerves.

I am aware of a mass scramble for seats, though only after Kodlak has settled himself. Even Tilma, the two other not-companions, and the smith Grey-Mane (when he arrived I have no idea) have settled themselves in the room, though they are sitting at tables set off to the side.

A pair of eyes sitting at the far end of the table on my left captures my attention. When I turn to look there are two familiar sets, but only one pair are lit with surprised recognition. My memory stirs like a sun-bathing dragon.

The eyes belong to another large dark-haired Nord, the bigger twin of the one Kara battered a little earlier, though their difference in size is barely noticeable this one has longer head hair and a light neat scar is set high on his right cheek.

Silver-blue eyes.

Where have I seen them before? Oh... a slither of silver-blue under blood-orange. Blood. Lots of it. And fur. Dark fur. Like the night.

The werewolf six months back.

I fail to suppress a gasp, but thankfully it is only Kara who notices. She elbows me roughly and cocks an eyebrow once she has my fleeting attention.

"Mistaken identity." I mutter. I had asked after Kara once I had gotten my paws on parchment and ink but she had denied being wounded and none of the Companions complained of injuries to her knowledge. "He knows me." I add unnecessarily.

I am very grateful for my thick russet fur for it hides a sudden hot blush.

"Oh!" She exclaims suggestively before grinning 'winningly' at the larger twin. "I'll introduce you properly after the meeting." She states lowly, though not quietly enough, as evidenced by wolf-whistles coming from at least three different sources.

I can feel my tail begin to twitch in annoyance already.

"Not like that you randy perverts!" Kara yells brightly but the saucy wink sent to the twin totally belays her words.

He blinks vacantly but smiles sweetly back.

I sigh with resignation. There's no stopping her once she gets going.

Luckily for me Kodlak only has to cough delicately into a meaty hand and the entire boat-hall shifts guiltily before settling down like naughty children that have just been told off by their parents. I suppose looking at some of these warriors they may have grown up with Kodlak gently guiding them like a father.

Beside me Kara squeaks out a nervous laugh and steps up onto the end of the unlit fire, pulling me with her for moral support. However Kara freezes and squeaks again, so I take a shaky nervous breath to begin. My stomach roils sickly, like both times I was on a boat.

"The Legion broke first." I manage to pit out. Stupid. They won't have a clue what you're talking about girl! They don't have mine and Kara's 'short hand'. "You know that the Civil War has been gaining momentum lately?" I begin again. This time I get faint scowls instead of blank stares.

"The Legion took Wuuthrad." Kara bursts in. Her voice is high and loud. Panicky. "They just took it right from the tomb!" She exclaims bravely.

The room seems to take this news about as well as expected, which is to say that everyone immediately begins shouting angrily at Kara, the ceiling and each other. In that order. I get a few blackly suspicious glares too, but that is nothing new.

Kodlak just sits back and lets the rest of them get it out of their system. After maybe twenty fast-paced heartbeats he carefully half stands from his seat (no stiff movements which suggests his illness isn't affecting his body) regaining everybody's attention in seconds.

"What did the note say?" He asks as he retakes his chair.

Kara gulps. "It doesn't mention the axe specifically, but it alludes pretty strongly to it." She admits. "If you take away all the posturing... basically they want me on side, or they destroy it and the shield." She whispers.


	5. Chapter 5

My third follower: ProwlernStalker - makes me think of a kitten you know - i'm just as excited as if you were the first.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5<span>

Again the room erupts into angry shouting but this time my swearing is added to the mix. Kara turns a shaky grin on me. I don't actually swear all that often, considering the... blackguard... company I have kept for the last ten years.

My tails starts flicking. "They are no doubt being held in the Emperor's Tower of Castle Dour, probably in the highest rooms under medium to heavy guard." I utter. As I say; I have already thought about it, a lot. "Tullius will be expecting an angry frontal assault, you in the lead. They will have many soldiers in the city and along the roads. You will not survive if it comes to a fight."

Her doe eyes are wide with alarm, already knowing where my thoughts have gone. "Senka!"

I turn away again, but turn back just as sharply. "What else do you propose? Not many know of me and even less of my... associations." A low growl rumbles in my chest. "I will not let you surrender to their demands, sister."

Her eyes tear up but her thin lips pull into a wide relieved grin.

"This is what I do, Kara." I murmur, acutely aware of the now silent baited audience hanging onto our every word. "The jobs for the guild?" I dry spit on the fire-pit. "I could have done the hardest one when I was a cub."

She is laughing with delight now, my challenging words and tone having reassured her more than mere platitudes.

**(And this, son, is the trouser changing part).**

But there is more I have thought of, so I lean in but raise my voice again so our watchers can hear. "The thing is Kara, exactly how angry are you?"

Her brown eyes blaze like earthen fire. "I would rip Tullius' head from his shoulders and piss down his neck!" she answers in a snarl. Her eerily silent shield-siblings burst into encouraging roars of approval.

I feel my eyes practically twinkle. "How about we utterly humiliate him and his forces first, yees?"

We sudden grin at each other, and though my sister is a half Breton, half Imperial I swear that right then she smiled like a Khajiit who caught a very fat yummy piece of prey. I'm sure that a few of the companions did too.

"Dare I ask?" A Dunmer asks jovially.

Kara flashes a grin at him. The rest of the Companions, minus the smaller twin and a blonde woman with 'speak no evil' markings, are wearing various relieved faces. Kodlak and Farkas especially. I'm just glad they've listened so far. Now comes the hard part.

"Everybody, this is Sen." Kara introduces brightly. Faces light up with recognition and some interest even, what has she told them about me I wonder? "Short for Senka. We crossed into Skyrim together, blah blah blah-"

"Not long after Kara was initiated into your fold I took a very different path..." I seamlessly continue. I take a shaky breath and send a silent prayer to Mara. "I joined the Thieves Guild."

...

My revelation went down better than I expected, which is to say I didn't get a sword in the gut.

"It gets worse!" Kara shouts brightly over the angry muttering. Scowls are abundant. "She's the Guildmaster!"

I sigh as the muttering raises in volume. "_Was._" I hiss.

"So you want to steal Wuuthrad?" The familiar twin asks. He didn't even have to raise his voice; everyone just shut up to stare at him like he's one of the Madgod's children. He is growing on me you know.

I shrug. "It's already stolen." I feel a smirk pull one side of my muzzle up. "I just plan on returning it to its rightful place; and believe me, that is not something this one does lightly."

Kara giggles. "What a strange thought."

We share a smile.

"Well, okay... What do you want us to do?"

And even Kara and I look at him like Sheogorath had appeared and pronounced him son and heir. However after a few seconds I cannot help but laugh. "Oh Hircine, you, I like." I take a long composing breath, bolstered by his acceptance. "For the moment there is little to do. My contacts in Solitude are writing reports as we speak; my plans are only half formed until I have more info."

"_Can_ we actually do anything? We aren't-"

I wave a paw before Kara gets herself worked up. "Distractions."

She folds her arms in a move I recognise means she expects more information.

"You can take a couple of others and confront the Legion as you would otherwise-"

"-Loudly you mean?" She asks with humour.

"Aye. I will probably need a couple of people inside the city making a ruckus to thin out the guard ranks. Fisticuffs. Drunkenness. The usual."

The motion of someone lifting their sloshing mug catches my eye. I know the man by reputation alone - leather armour, scraggy blonde beard, and always a full pint; Tovar. Sam, or rather, Sanguine, has talked about him a few times.

"Also a pair of you at a relay point." I consider. "To get the weapon back quickly." I explain. "And obviously a small contingent here - to hold the fort, so to speak."

"Vilkas and Ria should be your relay." Kara interjects. "They're fast, casual looking, and Vilkas is known to carry a battleaxe from time to time."

"I can stay here with Najda and the newer bunch." A beautiful red-head with green war-paint states decisively. Said newer bunch, liberally scatter amongst the higher rank, scowl like petulant children, though actually many of them cannot be far out of their childhood.

"Kodlak, Petra and I will get as close as we can to Tullius and make some noise then." Kara adds. I hadn't missed her hasty charades session with the unfamiliar blonde I had previously noted. She still doesn't look very pleased with the situation, but I think Kara has pulled rank with her, and Kodlak is sitting back with an obvious air of relief.

My mental tally leaves with me with one conclusion. "That leaves the larger twin spare. Good." I shrug in faint embarrassment. "I'm probably not going to be able to haul the weapons very far by myself."

The vast majority of the people before me are still scowling and looking very displeased but no one has actually raised an objection, and in fact the older members, including Ria, and aside from Vilkas, all look immeasurably relieved.

"We have... oh say... two or three weeks, to get ready." I finally reengage the room. "We need to stock up for the trip there, I need to get some gear, and some people need to be warned. There's also the relay point to check out and set up at, the horses, and contingency plans." I peer at my audience. "Lots of those. Must keep it simple. Simple stories too."

"Sen?"

"Half truths and lies by omission." I assure her absently. "If you happen by any contracts for Solitude Hold please keep hold of them for now."

I pause again but they must have heard some sort of finality in my tone because everyone suddenly explodes into speech, voices getting louder as they all try to be heard over the other.

"Do we really need-"

"I don't think this-"

"I can't believe-"

"ENOUGH!" Kara roars. Her voice echoed dully around the hall; I think the Thu-um bled in a little there. "We. Are. Doing. This-!"

"Unless they are suggesting you break the Companion adage of neutrality?" I ask mildly.

My half rhetorical question is met with much grumbling, which I think means the last of the protests have died down now. They are very adamant about their tradition of neutrality, which in a way I can understand, because the worst part of the guild was the way we were stuck under Maven Black-Briar's thumb.

Kara is pulling her hair in exasperation. "I know guys, usually you wouldn't even dream of this..." She blows out a noisy breath. "... but Senka is right; we aren't going to get Wuuthrad back with brute force."

I grimace. "I'm sorry it has even come to this, sister."

Her nose wrinkles. "We knew something like this could happen." She admits. "I'm just glad you're here." She pulls me into a sideways hug, arm around my waist, which I reciprocate easily.

I grin. "Come now sister, I tried to follow you into Sovngarde, did I not?"

There is a surprised pause from our audience while Kara lets loose a deep belly laugh. "That you did, sister. Odahviing is such a sourpuss."

"Kill joy." I offer.

"Boring old Dovah." Kara agrees with a toothy grin.

* * *

><p>Later that evening I've settled into Breezehome with minimal effort. It was always the most comfortable and inviting of her many homes – Honeyside in Riften being the second most comfortable, in my humble opinion.<p>

The estimable Lydia is apparently in Markarth looking after Argis while he recovers from a bad Forsworn mauling. Hateful people. I am relieved that I won't have to deal with the intimidating woman though.

The front door opens and Kara steps carefully through with a frown marring her pretty face.

"Are you okay sis?"

I sigh and push my empty plate away. Kara slides onto the bench next to me.

"Don't be daft Kara. Of course I am not." I rumble wearily. My elbows land on the table surface to ostensibly help prop up my head, but really to mask my gathering tears.

"I – I don't know what to say, sis. I'm so sorry." Kara admits in a small voice.

"There is nothing to say." I reply thickly. "I knew it might happen." I swallow hard.

"It doesn't make it right, or hurt less." She finally replies.

I choke on a sob.

"I'm here sister; let it out." She utters softly, one arm snaking firmly around my shoulders.

My eyes prickle with hot tears and a lump the size of a sweetroll lodges in my throat. Quickly the tears spill over and make fast work of rolling their way down my furry cheeks. It is so embarrassing. A thicker skin and a straight face are needed to be a successful thief, or at least to stay out of prison, so tears like mine are a rare sight for us.

However the Guild are, were, like family. Brothers; sisters; uncles. We didn't always get along, but we looked after each other because few others would.

Small hitches begin in my breathing, but I thankfully manage to suppress any noise. The last thing I want to do is sob over them. I have other things to do than sink into a massive pit party. Not that Kara will blame me if I did; she has cried before, when the pressure and expectations became too much for her to bear. At least she didn't try to stop eating, or started bring her food back up, or even worse, kept it bottled.

My tears dry after what feels like a very long time, but the sky hasn't darkened much when I glance out the window.

"Better sis?" Kara asks quietly.

"Better sis." I manage with a weak smile. The rejection by my Guild will probably sting for the rest of my life, but I am, and will, move on.


	6. letter the first

I'd like to know what you guys think of the fic, so please review!

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: Letter<p>

_S_

_I did as you asked with the first shipment. _

_The second is waiting where you specified._

_G_

I chuckle throatily.

Gulum-Ei has been keeping an eye on the EEC shipments for me, logging all the weapons the Legion has flagged up for the war. All the shipments come pretty regularly a month, usually at the end. The latest one I have asked my contact to interrupt happens to be a pretty big one.

In this shipment there could be anywhere between seven to ten large crates. One crate contains potion ingredients not found in Skyrim. Two crates contain pre-made weapons. The rest comprise of the building block of such weapons, which means there are various metals, ores, leathers and woods.

Gulum has swapped out most of the metals for worthless pieces of Dwarven scrap. Small boulders have replaces the ores. Only a top layer of leather has been left; the rest replaced with worthless old and brittle stuff. The ingredients have had sea water poured all over them, rendering them mostly useless (according to Quintus, who had lectured us about this once).

All the Hold encampments will be getting an unpleasant surprise.

The 'second' shipment is actually the remains of the first. Everything Gulum has taken out he moved into his 'secret stash' which will then be shipped off to Windhelm, where Scouts-Many-Marshes will pick them up and distribute the pre-made weapons and any potions to the Stormcloaks.

The raw materials I will get Scouts to slip into a road shipment bound for Whiterun. Hopefully Adrianne and Eorlund will like their surprise. The city could do with some better equipment methinks. I wonder if Kara will attribute the influx of material to me?

_S_

_Gulum is ready to go. Expect some packages soon._

_I need you to get hold of some Banners for me. I need enough for two houses per city not including yours. Send the crates to our houses._

_Once you send them off let Cyndric in the City of Riften know._

_S _


	7. Chapter 7

Do you guys play Skyrim? I do. As you might imagine I usually pick Khajiit as my race - I find the human races boring and I think the Khajiit are so damn pretty - what do you guys play as, and why?

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6<span>

I am just rummaging lazily in the kitchen, half-heartedly hunting for lunch, when Kara pops in waving a piece of parchment around triumphantly.

"I have a contract for this hold if you'd like to join me tomorrow?"

I consider. "I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind for that." Not to mention I have nearly ten letters to write for various correspondences. I've had several brilliant ideas that need to be acted upon immediately if we're to get them set out in a timely matter.

She frowns.

"To watch your back." I explain wan. "Your shield-siblings would kill me if you so much as got a scratch." I add knowingly.

Kara chuckles. "They would." She admits. "They believe I'm invincible, but at least they don't sniff at broken bones, unlike so many others." She grumbles.

We fall silent for a minute, leaning against our respective walls, reminiscing on the one time Kara came a hairs breath from dying. Her arms are crossed tightly, defensive.

"Have you not told them?" I ask in surprise.

She laughs, and it is an astonishingly bitter sound. "No. Their exposure to Lycanthropy has bent them against magic, Deadra and their worshippers – well aside from The Huntress, but even she disapproves of the other Princes."

"I cannot say I totally blame them." I reply easily. I may be in service to Nocturnal, a Hunter for Hircine, and on good terms with The Madgod and to a lesser extent Sanguine, but it doesn't mean I don't think they're not bad news, because frankly, they are.

She sighs. "No. More trouble than they're worth, usually. Magic though..."

My left ear flicks. Magic has saved my life, hide, limbs and everything else more times than I'd care to admit. Kara's magic mostly, but also the Riften temple healers. People who say magic is bad news are ignorant fools.

"Well okay, how about I bring another person?" She asks brightly.

I take a minute to catch up with her change of conversation. "What, where?"

She sighs dramatically. "Tomorrow. Keep up Sen." She teases. "It's a simple giant killing, at Sleeping Tree, you know, just the other side of the Fort." She informs me. A grin suddenly pulls her lips up. "Maybe I could bring Farkas? You could talk then without Mr. Grumpy pants twin huffing and glaring at you."

There is merry mischief dancing in her eyes and much to my dismay my mouth agrees before my brain can let its thoughts known. Not that the idea isn't tempting, because I am quite interested to talk to him... to get to know the man behind the werewolf.

"YAY!" Kara sings gleefully. "You don't even need to chase a rabbit, Sen, just relax."

"Alright." I relent. "It might do me some good."

* * *

><p>There is a cheery tap-tap-tap on the front door of Breezehome a mere three hours after the sun rises, and considering it is late autumn, it means it is still pretty damn early in the day. So early I am still half asleep, though have just managed to swallow a hunk of bread.<p>

"Come on Sis! I wanna get there already!" Kara whines through the door.

I slip my pack on first before attaching my quiver full of elven arrows to my armour over the top, then shoulder Zephyr, the Dwarven bow we found in Arkangamth four months ago. That was a quest and a half.

"SEeeeeen!"

The guards by the front gate are staring. Again. That happens a lot. Though I'd have thought these ones would have finally become used to her by now.

"Fuck off back to bed Kara it is too early for your childishness." I grumble sourly.

"HA! You're gonna hate me too." A new, far deeper, voice states brightly.

I squint blearily up at Farkas, who smiles widely and hands me a still warm sweetroll. "One of Tilma's special cinnamon ones." He adds unnecessarily; I can easily smell the lovely spice.

"Thank you, Nord." I manage to purr before snatching and scoffing the confection in two large bites. Kara laughs at me but I don't really care. I'm a night owl really, which suited me just fine in the guild, as most of our jobs were done at either dusk or dawn.

"Sister, this is Farkas, Farkas this is Sen." Kara introduces over her shoulder as she leads us towards the front gates. The female blacksmith is busy doing something noisy over her workbench but pauses to nods at our trio.

"Ah yes that name rings a few bells." I murmur. "Dustman's cairn of course, vampires in Morthal, the Saarthal excavation and Folgunthur."

He stares in surprise.

"And a few others, but those were the really interesting ones." Kara notes as the heavy oak gates close behind us. "I hope you don't mind, sis, but I've shared most of our adventures. Including Zephyr's origins."

I wave her concern away. "The thieves were nearly as bad – bragging rights and all that."

She snorts. "Well don't be surprised if you get lots of questions, that's all; they don't believe half our stories." Farkas is very quiet.

I grimace. "That's because no normal person could deal with half that shit."

She winks at me.

A comfy silence descends between us as we traipse down the winding Whiterun entrance. I perk up when I spot the conspicuous and very familiar tents at the end. My fellow Khajiit's. It is always a pleasure to sit and talk with my own race.

"Senka! Short roads."

A happy purr works its way from my throat.

"Ri'saad, warm sands."

The old grey cat grins up at me, also beginning to purr. Khajiit smile more with our eyes than our lips but when we are really happy we purr. Those famous toothy smiles tend to be due to blood-thirst than affection. It is a trait we share with the Lizard-folk.

"Word has reached the caravans about your... shall we say, unceremonious departure from the guild." He nonchalantly begins. His agitated swishing tail belays his unconcerned tone.

We have stepped up on the small hillock the traders camp on, though Farkas and Kara are hesitating behind me, letting me converse as privately as possible. The other three Khajiit are watching the two humans narrowly but without any real hostility.

"Oh?"

I have known Ri'saad for years; Ma'dran, another trader here in Skyrim, helped smuggle my mother out of Elsweyr when she was wanted for treason and they, as you might imagine, stayed in touch, my mother compelled to return the favour one day. I grew up seeing much of Ma'dran, who was, until five years ago, a member of Ri'saad's caravan. Hence I also saw a fair bit of the old grey one.

"We are so very angry." Ri'saad rumbles thickly, nearly spitting the words out. "Ma'dran wishes to leave them out in the windswept deserts in nothing but their naked flesh." He snarls fiercely, obviously approving.

I wince even as a chuckle bubbles up from my stomach. "Uncle! You are as vicious as you are mercantile."

All five of us Khajiit laugh.

Kara and Farkas seem to be cringing away from us, alarmed, which is only making the younger of the troupe laugh harder. I have some sympathy for the humans, as they just don't know how to deal with our more bestial vicious natures.

"Ma'dran is refusing to deal with them." Ri'saad eventually tells me. "We are asking for very low prices for their goods, and have put ours up very high, to teach them a lesson." He continues sotto voice.

I swallow back tears.

"Ma'dran loves you like his own." He says quietly. "As do I." He adds sincerely, squeezing my paw, as I squeeze his back seconds later. He laughs suddenly. "Of course you make us more in a month than they will in two years!"

Two of the Khajiit burst out laughing while a pretty chestnut female groans. "Aw Ri'saad you ruined that you old cur." She exclaims.

"Ah sentiment should be felt, not spoken." He retorts hotly. "Senka, you don't need to be in a guild, never have done."

I look away, the wound too raw still for me to want to think about any of it. "Thank you, uncle. I don't know what I'd do without your support."

"Pah." He growls. "We won't be the last."

"Do you think they could persuade people to turn on Sen?" Kara asks in alarm.

Ri'saad lets out a gravelly laugh. "No Halfling, most would rather eat their left food."

"Most?" Farkas mimics innocently.

"Ah. The ones that matter." The chestnut female amends swiftly, throwing Ri'saad a light glare. He winks back, much to my interest. Family or friend I wonder?

We bid the quartet a reluctant goodbye, or I do, Kara and Farkas seem to be a little wary of them or Ri'saad at least. Kara has nothing to worry about – she is fairly well-liked since she does some good trading with them, and of course is a good friend of mine.

"Uncle?" Kara asks archly as we step out onto the plains.

There's not a living thing in my sight.

"Of a sort." I begin. "My mother got into bad trouble in Elsweyr. Ma'dran smuggled her out. He was attached to Ri'saad's caravan three years after this, but mother stayed in touch with him. So I grew up with Ma'dran, and by extension Ri'saad, calling them uncle." I explain. "Because my parents died before I was deemed an adult I travelled with Ma'dran for over a year."

The silence is slightly awkward this time. Sleeping Tree camp is far enough away to warrant an overnight trip; hence the bag of provisions Farkas has been saddled with, and the rolled up bedrolls attached to the top of our packs.

My sister and her shield-brother relax enough after lunch to begin conversing in low tones, but I am still too emotional to join in. I would prefer the beautiful leafy vegetation of Riften right now. The Whiterun plains are too bleak and empty for me to find solace in.

I do however get an excellent view of the group of ragged wanderers making their way over from the Bleakfall mountains.

Farkas exclaims in surprise as I swing Zephyr from over my arm and nock an arrow in one deft movement.

I have been taught some boxing, but I'm not stupid enough to get that close to a giant, and I don't like to get too close to Kara when she engages the enemy as she is very... wild... fierce and tries to take on as many as she can at once. Bows are much safer.

Long years of adventuring – with both my father and Kara – have taught me how to identify fellow hunters, wanderers, guards and bandits from each other. The over-worn mismatching armour and fierce arguing tells me that this group are bandits.

I let the arrow fly.


	8. Chapter 8

My fourth follower: ZheatZhouss! Hey there! :)

Almost to my first five EEEEEE!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 7<span>

Farkas and Kara are both trying to spot whoever I am aiming at but only succeed when two of the five are already dead. Even as used to my archery as Kara is, her eyesight is not meant for long distance.

Two more fall before the bandits have pulled their weapons, and the last is still over a field length away when my arrow finds its mark in the left eye-slit of his steel horned helmet. How proud my father would be of my skill.

"Well fuck my mother and call me a Deadra, it's good to see your sharpshooting skills haven't gotten rusty while you've been sitting around, Guildmaster." Kara squeaks out. It always amuses me greatly when she swears.

I manage a faint chuckle. "Ahh that _is_ rusty, you know."

Farkas cocks an eyebrow (much to my instant childlike adoration) a stunned expression faintly showing in the wideness of his light eyes.

"Trollshit!" Kara exclaims as we turn back onto the road. Some other lucky sod can have the loot; we are both if not set for life, at least set for many years into the future and the Companions seem to be prospering with Kara in their mist.

I laugh. "I haven't picked up a bow in for a month maybe: paperwork."

Kara carries on with her disbelieving exclamations until Farkas rolls his eyes.

Now in a more cheerful mood (Kara spluttering always brings a grin to my eyes) I can relax enough to participate in the conversation my comrades had been previously engaged in. Gods only knows what they're talking about – Kara is ever so slightly mad.

"Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Kara begins, sticking her tongue out at me, which I reply to with a rude gesture, "the Mountains between Markarth and Falkreath are my favourite places." She expresses earnestly. "It's some of the loveliest scenery. On clear days you can see all the way to Riverwood from the Southern Crags."

I purr completely in agreement with my sister. "Reachwind Eyrie."

"Redwater."

"Even Skyhaven Temple." I grudgingly add.

Kara grins suddenly. "You mean-

"Bards Leap!" We yell together prompting a perplexed gwaff from Farkas.

I chuckle ruefully. "Stupidest thing I have ever done, jumping off that perch."

"What!?" He roars.

Kara giggles. "Yup." With a popped 'p'. "We'd heard of the place in both Cities, and we'd already been in Redwater and had a look at Reachwind, so we'd seen the Leap at a distance-"

"It was the Forsworn that had initially stayed a sojourn up there." I seamlessly continue. "They are ferocious opponents even with help, and everyone has heard of the terrible raids... we would have had to eliminate a whole damn camp just to explore the Leap properly."

"Not easy." Farkas states.

Kara laughs.

I grimace. "Understatement. We brought Argis with us – invaluable man." Kara blushes lightly; she has had a little crush on him for a while. Not that she's done anything about it – she doesn't think he is interested, whereas I believe he's just not into women – I mean really who wouldn't want to sleep with Kara? She is gorgeous. "It was one of our tougher fights even with the extra help. We killed them all eventually but it was evening and we had sustained some nasty injuries."

"The lights were worth it, right sis?"

"Definitely." I agree vigorously. "Blue and red set against the granite work of the ancients, stars twinkling, and the moons were so bright... I have never seen such beauty." We both sigh longingly. "It has been over two years now. We should go back."

"Yeah." Kara agrees distantly. "Daybreak was just as lovely, you know, yellow pink sky, cloudless. There was rolling fog in the valley below." She dreamily recounts.

"It wasn't originally designed as a leap." I venture after a minute. "It was a Nordic ruin. The pool of the Leap we think was a freshwater reservoir and the Leap itself is some wooden boards attached to one of those eagle head guardian statues."

Kara hums in agreement.

"I don't know how many times that Leap has been redone. It was rotting wood when I stepped on it." My ears twitch. "Kara was at the bottom by the pool, setting up lunch, when I strolled right out onto it. The pool was more than two buildings height below."

Kara shuddered. "I didn't even realise she was thinking of jumping until Argis shouted up at her in alarm. It was terrifying just looking up at her. She took a step back as I watched, and for a second I thought she was gonna be sensible and back out-"

"-Instead I launched myself off in a swan dive." I break in. "It was exhilarating; like your first heist, your first tangle with a bear, the first time you bested your brother in a fight..."

The two Companions were silent for a second trying to conjure the feeling.

"The water was fucking freezing though!"

The two humans burst into hearty surprised laughter even as I shiver in remembrance. Not the coldest water I have been in truthfully, but I hadn't been expecting it to be as cold as it was, considering how far south the Leap is, so it was a nasty shock.

Their laughter dies down as the sun dips halfway below the horizon. The previously green plains now blaze a brilliant orange, much brighter than my smoky orange fur, and a night shill sweeps in surprisingly fast. We decide it is time to set camp and make dinner – if we do this any later the night predators will smell our food and come investigating.

"Siiiiiis," Kara sings, "Farkas has questions."

I turn to find said Nord blushing and shaking his head while Kara is smiling wickedly.

I sigh to myself. "Khajiit mind water no more than other races. We do live in tropical rainforests as well as the dry badlands." I shrug. "My parents were travelling through Skyrim when I was born – I think near Riverwood – but they settled in boggy rainy Leyawiin in Cyrodiil. So yes, I am very used to water, and am a decent swimmer."

"Oh." He sounds. Kara I note is nodding encouragingly at him as she herds us away from the road to a likely looking camping spot. What is my meddling soul-sister up to now? Although she does like to get people in trouble she knows I am a little sensitive about my race.

"Ask, Nord." I grumble. "I know how much of a novelty I am. The caravan troupes do not really encourage such familiarity."

"Senka!" Kara instantly scolds, meddling forgotten. "He's asking for the same reasons I did."

I rub my ears. "I... know," I feel my shoulders slump in defeat. "I am sorry, Farkas, really. You did not deserve that."

"It's okay-"

I cut him off with a low hiss and a curt waving gesture. Kara is frowning petulantly, arms crossed and lips pouting. Child.

"I'm harassed a lot." I explain. "And the questions people ask are... impolite, to say the least. I have found it better for my sanity to cut them off before they start getting really unpleasant." I squeeze myself briefly, like to protect against the bad memories.

Farkas frowns heavily in what I discern as sympathy.

Our packs are dropped on a slight knoll in the landscape. There is a shallow stream about three cart lengths from us but still we seem to be the only living creatures in the immediate area. I wonder where all the deer and rabbits are?

Kara is still frowning at me but she isn't angry at my behaviour anymore. More like she's trying to puzzle me out. I haven't seen that particular look in a while, not from her. It makes me feel very lonely and sad.

"A reason I am actually happy to escape the Guild. I am not the happy go lucky Senka you once knew. I've started to become as cold and hard as the other women in the guild." I admit in a low voice. "I hate that sister."

Farkas has already begun a circle of stones to keep a fire contained in. Kara bends to spread out our bedrolls and I drop some dry stick by the firepit. At least we won't have to worry about sleeping tonight; no prey or predators are around.

Not that I have trouble sleeping in my leathers – although I must admit my guild armour was a lot nicer to wear that this set, even if it was a an absolutely hateful shade of poo brown – but Kara and Farkas, both in steel today, would be mightily uncomfortable.

"You're out of there now, Sen." Kara coos. "You can crack that stone mask back open." She says by way of accepting how I've changed.

"Think happy." Farkas suddenly pipes up.

Both Kara and I chuckle incredulously.

"Oh if only it were that simple, Farkas." I sigh. I pat his spaulder as I squat down next to him with the sack of food. "No harm in trying though, I guess. Thank you."

* * *

><p>I can only describe killing the giant as anti-climatic.<p>

There was only the one, herding two mammoths, so I shot the grey being between the eyes – killing it instantly – while Kara and Farkas raided the camp for all it was worth. They seem to love animal pelts and weaponry.

Then we turned right back around.

At least I can honestly say I have made a new friend in Farkas, and friends are something I am desperately in need of right now. True friends, not people I know who like me because I make them money or steal things for them.

"So how did you find our little quest, sis?" Kara asks brightly the next day at breakfast.

I sit myself at the well laden table. The Companions always seem to have much food around. I wonder why. "A well needed break." I rumble happily. "It has been too long since I have been able to shirk my responsibilities like that."

Kara grimaces with empathy. It has been four years now since she had to 'meet her destiny' but something like that, all that pressure and focus, she tells me, does not leave your memories quickly or at all.

I shrug easily. "I can relax a little now at least. There is no need to look at me like I am about to break down sister." I laugh. "I am made of sterner stuff than that you know."

She grins saucily but says nothing.


	9. letter the second

You know these letters actually came in as an afterthought when I realised I hadn't done much about the Civil War arc?! But I think they're actually my favourite chapters.

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: letter<p>

_Uncle M_

_Ahkari should have told you by now, but in case not, the Legion took Wuuthrad._

_You know what this means._

_As amusing as your games with the guild are – it made me warm like the Sands to hear of – the Legion is a more important focus._

_Senka_

_Ahkari_

_Thank you for the note. We are preparing rigorously. Switch your focus to the Legion, not my ex-associates. _

_Don't have too much fun, yes?_

_Sen_

"Here Ri'saad: a letter for Ahkari, if you could pass it on? Ma'dran will be in Markarth so I shall pass his on myself."

We are relaxing in his 'mercantile tent' after a traditional Elsweyr supper. Fondue. I forget how sweet the food is – my mother and father tried to have Elsweyr dishes as often as possible, but considering Moon Sugar is illegal in Cyrodiil, that is not saying much. I had it more often with Ma'dran, but since I left him I have only managed to get Moon Sugar a handful of times.

"It is just to let them know about the situation. To fleece the Legion instead of my ex-guildmates." I tell him nonchalantly.

He snorts. "Instead of? You mean as well as."

I laugh. "Apologies. I shall correct that misspelling."

He grins.


	10. Chapter 10

OMG FIVE! I have five followers! Hugs out to number 5: vogelflip123.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8<span>

"It's the truth. Not even Aela could have done that."

I peek around the door just in time to see Farkas throw up his hands in a 'why aren't you listening to me' gesture. Sitting beside him, back in normal clothes, Kara is nodding and smiling smugly like a proud parent. Vilkas has his back to me.

"I don't care. She's not staying." He snarls.

I slip fully into the room, totally intrigued, softly closing the door behind me (not that anyone heard it open), and begin to creep up behind the smaller nastier twin.

"Sen has honour-" Kara begins to protest.

My stomach twists.

"She's a thief!" Vilkas counters.

I snarl silently at him even as I stop unnoticed directly behind him. I begin to size him up.

He has a small coin pouch tied to his sword belt, just behind his sword, with maybe five septims inside. I can spot three easily accessible buckles of his chest piece, two on each arm, two on each of his leg guards, and a possible third on the wrist of his right gauntlet. However I would not like to try and divest him of any of it, simply because I am woefully unfamiliar with this particular set of steel armour.

"Was." I state.

All three Companions start but I only begin to grin as Vilkas swing around wildly, swearing like a sailor. I even manage to grin wider as his face clouds over thunderously at my presence. All bark and little bite.

"I forgot to give you these." I hand the three notes to a suspicious Vilkas. "The notes from my contacts." I explain. "Keep them. I need to stay low key, and you need to look like you're well informed. You got these today from a courier with a blue cap. It has taken you weeks to argue about whether you were going to be diplomatic or not."

Kara snorts indelicately and Vilkas' face, unbelievably, gets even more thunderous.

"Have you got a board and some space, sister?" I ask, theatrically leaning around Vilkas' bulk.

Twitching awkwardly from keeping in her amusement Kara manages to reply. "There's a board downstairs." She glances around. "I don't suppose you'll want to keep it up here?" She asks innocently.

I feel my left ear flick involuntarily in exasperation. While we've been talking Vilkas has moodily stalked off outside with his twin trailing languidly trailing behind. Twins only in looks; strange how so very different they are.

"No?" She laughs. "Ummm maybe we could use Kodlak's little study area? Let's ask." She pops up from her seat and skips insistently to the stairs. I follow her at a sedate pace. "He has a nice big desk too you know. Farkas could sleep on it even."

Big indeed.

"How long where you there?" She asks quietly as we descend the stairs.

"'Not even Aela could do that'." I quote curiously.

Kara grins toothily. "You impressed Faraks yesterday." She assures me.

"Good, I think."

I hold the subterranean door open and am instantly hit with a familiar 'lots of bodies living together underground' smell. Lovely. The cistern was worse to be fair to the boat-hall. "And why does Vilkas labour under the impression that I'm staying permanently?"

Kara ducks her head a little as she passes me. "I might have said once or twice that you'd make an excellent Companion." She mutters at the floor.

I sigh at her back. The closing door does not sound like a death knell. Nope.

"Can't a girl dream?"

"My reasons still stand, Kara."

She half turns to reply to me as we pass a first set of doors. I've never been down here before. It is very long and surprisingly homey – I think it is all the wood furniture and mead. It is much cosier than the Ratway for sure.

"Not all our contracts are to kill things." Kara argues.

"True, but I'd have to totally give up my thiefy ways, and you know I'm more likely to enter a pact with Molag-Bol." I retort quietly. Nonetheless right at the moment even thinking about stealing something is giving me a headache.

She turns concerned eyes on me. "You're going to continue? But I thought you said it was dangerous to steal without a guild?"

"A bit, yes. But I plan on specialising on hard to get items. The contracts are few and far between-"

"-So you won't be stealing often." She realises. We come to a cross shaped area. Kara sleeps in a room off to the left. "But the risk of getting caught-"

"-Is higher. I know." I finish tiredly. "But come sister; I've stolen from at least four Jarls from Skyrim and two Council members in Cyrodiil."

She frowns and huffs. "I'm scared you're going to end up in the same sort of trouble as your mother. I don't want to lose you like that, Sen." She admits thickly.

So am I, but I say nothing, instead I just squeeze her shoulder and precede her into a study area.

Kodlak is sitting at his large oak wood desk flipping idly through a book. Hagravens. Strange subject matter. A small tower of papers is to his right and more are scattered over his desk. An almost empty bottle of mead sits at his left elbow.

Above his head two shelves of books sit. Directly behind him is a small table with a bowl of half eaten stew – likely cold – and two chairs. To my right are an empty corner and a door to another room. I spy a large pair of thick hide boots and presume it the Harbingers personal sleeping area.

"Maybe not here Kara-"

"Koooodlak..." Kara sings, childishly ignoring me, "Senka needs to borrow our spare board, and she needs a place to set it up..."

He raises a bushy white eyebrow at us even as he smiles.

"For the job." I explain. "The plans and reports." I elaborate further.

"Ah."

I shift uneasily under his piercing gaze. "I don't think this a good place. Too out in the open – everyone will be able to see it-"

"Sis, the whole hall knows. I think only Eorlund doesn't." Kara scoffs incredulously.

"But-"

A large warm hand falls heavily on my shoulder halting my words instantly.

"Keeping things from the other members only leads to tragedy." Kodlak rumbles gently.

"Skjor." Kara mutters sadly.

I throw my hands up in surrender. "Mercer." I state spitefully.

Kodlak's other hand makes it way to Kara's shoulder. The comfort it brings us is almost visible. I miss my father. Kara remembers little about her life before waking up in the cart of Helgen; sometimes I envy her.

"Okay, sister, you made your point." I turn to Kodlak and pat his hand on my shoulder. "May I use this space? The initial reports should start trickling in now."

"Of course." He agrees easily.

"So soon?" Kara questions surprised.

"Plans of the castle; I _was_ planning a heist there. I had my people already working on it." I admit.

* * *

><p>Over the next three days I have become a grudging fixture in the massive boat-hall.<p>

Between Kara's fierce defence, Farkas' quiet approval, and Kodlak's acceptance I have been able to come and go unmolested. Although Vilkas, Najda and Petra have grumbled all they can most of the other members ignore me.

* * *

><p>"Having problems?" Kodlak asks.<p>

I have so far avoided spilling my papers over onto his desk, but that is only a matter of time, and the peaceful man is surprisingly agreeable company. I can get very irritable when I am planning. My headaches don't help either.

"I'm trying to decide on the route back and the relay point." I muse as I stare blankly at the board. "We will be riding in the dark so I am hesitant to take us through the Morthal bogs..."

"But?"

"But it is an obvious move so going that way may throw pursuers off." I describe. I scowl at the pinned up map – my personal one; ratty old thing it is. It's mocking me, I just know it.

"And the relay point?"

I turn a disbelieving gaze on him. "Where else? Labyrinthian."

A frown begins to form on his face.

"Dangerous, yes, but nothing we cannot handle. Plus few people go that way, which means there is less chance of us being followed or interrupted." I argue nonchalantly. Having a sounding board that argues back is always good.

Kodlak still looks less than thrilled.

"Another route would be to ride the Markarth road with the relay point being at Brokentusk camp." I explain while tracing the route on the map. "It's safer, but there is more chance of being followed or stopped." I clarify.

We are silent as we consider my map.

"Did you plan your trips with Kara?" He asks mildly.

"Eh. We squabbled actually." I reply with poorly disguised humour. "When she's serious she's a decent planner."

"She can lead?" He asks even as he studiously peruses my map. There is a twitch along his jaw that gives away his interest. There are slight bags under his eyes that give away his worry. The man looks so old.

"As I understand it the Companions don't have leaders." I reply easily. His bristles turn up. "She calls you Fus Ro Dah." I add. He glances at me with honest surprise. "Force because you are formidable still, Balance, because you are calm and bring calm to others, and Push because others strive to better themselves for you."

A shimmery tear rolls down his cheek but his smile is threatening to split his face in half.

"Kara had calmed down a lot thanks to you." A little envy sharpens my tone. "She often talks about how you brought her true peace, and for years now she has tries to emulate your demeanour." He snorts. I grin. "Too excitable, the child, but for the most part... she thinks more before rushing off into situations. It's hard to describe because it has been gradual." I shrug. "She's grown."

He turns to me then sensing I'm getting to my point.

"She _could_ be the next harbinger." I answer finally. "I cannot say if she'd be best suited of the others, but I can say that she's fierce enough to put others in their places yet open minded enough to listen to everyone. She is friendly and inspirational _in spite of _being Dovakiin."

"Those are my thoughts too." He says after a lengthy think. "I am dying you see, and I'm not long for this world." He sighs. "Kara is my choice of the circle."

"Then why ask me?"

He laughs shortly. "You're honest enough to list your sister's faults."

I crack a brief grin and finally plot the relay point on the map. We shall be using the Markarth roads; this plan is risky enough without losing people to the Bogs.


	11. Chapter 11

.3 thank you for review and the message! you are the first for both (for this story at least).

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 9<span>

"What are your thoughts on the others?" Kodlak casually asks.

We are once again looking at my old ratty map. This time we are plotting out alternate routes from Solitude Hold. The Legionnaire presence in the Hold has doubled: it has us greatly worried.

"I've only seen Aela at the full meetings or the evening meals: too solitary. Vilkas comes across as nasty and confrontational: you will not get many recruits. Farkas is nearly the opposite: friendly and soft hearted, but not fierce enough to turn away the undesirables." I answer haltingly.

Kodlak chuckles but it is a tired sound. He is thinking of his successor.

"You want to go to Sovngarde, then?" I half ask half state.

"Yes. Hircine's realm holds no fascination for me."

I shake my head. "I think I understand. My father was a worshipper but he never pushed me into becoming a follower. I think I would have resented him and the Prince if I had been forced like you where."

He gives me a puzzled look. "I confess I do not know what kind of afterlife Khajiit believe in..."

I shrug. "Neither of my parents were traditional believers." I cross my legs and lean back into my chair, preparing for a lengthy discussion. "The main religion of the Khajiit is kind of a feline version of yours. When we die we return to the embrace of the Mother Cat."

"What did your parents believe?" He asks cautiously.

Again I shrug. "As I said, my father was a devoted follower of Hircine, much like The Huntress, though I do not think he was a Werewolf. My mother on the other hand was a thief, and so was a loyal disciple of Nocturnal; Mistress of Thieves."

Kodlak grunts with distaste.

Deadra worship is a touchy subject at the best of times so I am not offended by his attitude.

"I am evenly split between the two." I admit quietly.

"You have no preference?" He questions archly.

"No..."

"You sound unsure."

I sigh. "I entered into service with both willingly enough." I recall. "But due to... unique... circumstances with my old guild I seem to be tied more strongly to Nocturnal at the moment. I am unsure about the whole thing, but I have no choice: what is done is done."

Kodlak is frowning seemingly in concern.

"Not only that but I've wondered... what if my husband – Mara willing – wishes to go elsewhere? And I would hate to never see my parents or Kara again." I finally voice in an embarrassed whisper. I worry too much methinks.

His surprise is plain on his face. "You've thought about it a lot."

I grimace. "You do not see many old thieves. Our line of work is dangerous: either you're killed on a job or you waste away in jail. Few make it past their early forties. I have a will."

"So do I." Kara states solemnly.

Kodlak and I jump nearly off our seats in surprise not having heard the usually noisy woman.

"Now if you two old men have finished philosophising I'd like to know what you've come up with." She asks with her usual cheery demeanour.

* * *

><p>Breath in, two, three – thwack.<p>

- Dead centre between the eyes.

Breath out, two, three – draw.

"Whoa that is one mean looking bow."

I jerk, startled, but carefully lower my half drawn bow and turn to the intruder with the familiar voice. I am unsurprised to lock eyes with a casually dressed Farkas.

There is a pregnant pause as we eye each other up. He leans in a cavalier manner against the side of Breezehome – arms crossed and bulging, legs crossed at the ankles, head cocked to the side – completely un-armoured for once, long dark hair tied back – which I like the more I look, with his moon-blue eyes languidly taking me and my bow in.

He is handsome in a rugged hairy way. Most Nord men are strangely fastidious about their hair but Farkas just seems to keep his head hair back from his face, and the lot of his face neat and short. Not even symmetrical.

"Named it?"

I have a total Sheogorath moment and think Farkas is talking about his facial hair.

He blinks slowly, a slightly puzzled mien to his face, and then he laughs and gestures to the bow.

Oh. I feel a hot itchy blush burst onto my face. I once again am thankful I'm a furry Khajiit.

He still laughs brightly as if he can see the blush.

"It's Deadric right?" He asks with great interest. "Can't say I've seen too many of those."

I laugh ruefully. "I found it in Arcwind Point."

Dark furry eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. "Not an easy place to get to."

I feel a grin stretching my lips. "Ah we were bored; went for a stroll." He stares sceptically. "Heh, seriously I'm closer to the truth than you might think. Kara wanted to see if there was a word wall and I was bored enough to follow."

He shakes his head and shrugs himself upright. I watch as he heedlessly meanders forwards into my makeshift training area, obviously emboldened by my response to his conversation. I wonder if he came to talk to me on his own initiative?

I hold up my almost forgotten bow for his studious inspection. His blue eyes are scarily intense as they take in the red and black weapon. Anything Deadric is imposing in appearance – be it weaponry or citizenry – and it took me a good long while to get truly comfortable wielding this bow, but I can say that now it's my favourite, even over my old 'first' bow.

"Wow." He comments dryly. "Looks heavy.

I grin. "Not at first, but after an hour? Yes, it gets quite heavy. I've been using it for four years now and I cannot keep it at full draw for more than a minute at a time, which means it is very powerful – but slow." I elucidate.

He nods along like he is used to Archery talk.

There is a slightly awkward pause where he glances around to try and find something to talk about. This once was a small garden type area behind Breezehome, but Kara has no love of flowers, not even alchemy, so she kept it clear. I've put up a target and a dummy I borrowed from Jorrvaskr and shoved a wooden bench against the back of the house as a resting place.

"Are people giving you trouble?" He growls.

I shake my head quickly. "Not so much, but I don't exactly feel welcome." I admit quietly. I begin to unstring the bow – carefully – so I do not have to look at his expression, or give away the slight hurt I feel.

"You're trying to help." He states in frustration.

A sad smile makes its way onto my face – drooped ears and whiskers. "Thank you for your support. It means much." I say with all my furry gratitude.

His mouths opens – to argue – but I reach up and softly pat his cheek, stopping him mid breath, which is then let out in a gusty sigh. He captures my hand in his own and squeezes sturdily in friendship.

My stomach flutters like with butterflies.

I pull back a little, feel very self-conscious, and I do not miss the quick flash of loss flit across his face, but I turn away and say nothing. "Besides I wouldn't dare use this around so many people." I blurt a little hastily to cover my feelings.

This takes him by surprise. "But in battle-?"

"I use this for sneak attacks or if I'm alone." I explain smoothly. "I carry several other bows if I'm accompanying someone else." Guilt bubbles in my stomach. "I accidently shot a travel companion once. He had to give up mercenary work because his leg was so badly shattered."

"Oh."

Yet again there is another awkward pause. Brilliant.

"Thank you." He says at last.

My curiosity is greater than my awkwardness so I fall for the conversation opener. "For what?"

He shuffles a little on his feet but his eyes are steady on mine as he explains himself. "For helping that time I was injured... as a werewolf." His lips pull down in a not quite frown. "Don't think I would have made it to morning without those potions."

I shake away those bloody images. "Of course." I dismiss easily. "I am glad you survived. I did try to find you the next day, but you were long gone." I explain.

"Yeah we heal pretty fast usually... if we aren't hurt too badly." He states.

"What happened?" I ask before I can stop myself. "I mean werewolves are tough and quick; as far as I know there's not much that can do so much damage." I blurt to try and cover my callousness. I have fought alongside a 'wolfed up' Kara - but only a handful of times because in her bloodlust she has trouble differentiating friend from foe - and she always came out of those fight in pristine condition.

He frowns truly. "The Silverhand."

That stirs a faint memory. "Kara talked about them once... something happened with one of your old members?"

Farkas growls low in his throat. "Skjor went off alone and the Silverhand killed him."

"Ah yes. She was upset." I recall. "So the same thing nearly happened again?" I guess.

"No. Well yeah. I mean Skjor went looking for a fight with them. I was just running." Farkas scowls at his feet. "I shouldn't have gone alone." He concedes.

"So it's the Silver? Kara has been leery of the stuff." I note aloud. He nods.

"Its burns." He states with a bodily shudder.

"It must have been agony." I mutter in horror. I cannot even imagine pain like that.

"Have you ever been set on fire by a mage?" He asks.

I growl. "Several times."

"It's like that, but worse." He confirms. I cringe my shoulders up. "What about Dragon Fire?"

I blink in surprise. "You've never encountered one before?"

We have migrated onto the low bench I set against the wall.

Farkas is hunched forwards resting his elbows on his knees. "Oh I have but they were all Frost." His Nord blood must have been useful then. I know Eruandur could ignore the Fire ones better.

"Well as you might imagine it is a lot hotter than mage fire. We've only ever been signed, thankfully, but that was painful enough." I answer.

The Nord frowns moodily at the ground. It is a strange twist of his usually happy features that leaves me unsettled and wishing for his bright smile back. "Kara went back to Helgen." He states.

My stomach squeezes. "You went with her?"

"Yeah. Nothing but rubble and burnt up bodies left. And bandits."

"I never went back. No point. I suppose for Kara it was really the start of a whole other life."

I sigh. It seems more than four and a bit years ago. More like forty.

"You don't miss _it_?" He asks suspiciously.

I laugh throatily. "You want to know if I have itchy fingers. Idle hands are the Deadra's playthings?"

He has the decency to blush which highlights his scar. I must ask about that later.

"No. Another reason I am glad to go. It was just reflex. A useful skill I couldn't let rust."

Farkas grunts stupefied.

I smile weakly. "Archery is my first love."

We are silent as that confession lingers in the yard with us.

"You're sticking around then." Farkas states knowingly. "You're going to follow Kara again." He answers when I cast him an arch expression.

"That was my plan, at least for a little while." I confirm.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 10

Five days have passed since my conversation with Farkas behind Breezehome, and while I've been busy enough with the planning of our heist, I haven't been able to get his last comment out of my head.

Following my sister indefinitely.

Truthfully I did always look forwards to our trips as it was a nice break from the monotony of Guild life (and the Cistern) even it was something simple like a Giant killing or to fetch something for someone.

Some of my best loot came from the 'quests' we went on – the Dwarven and Nordic ruins being especially lucrative – which the guild certainly appreciated even if it wasn't gathered in the 'correct' way.

The more I think about it, then more appealing the idea gets. And even if I do eventually want to go my own way (and do what, I've no idea) Kara will not hold it against me. Sands, she'll be the first to urge me to go for it.

"By Dagon's ugly mug, Farkas, you win." I growl as a greeting when I enter Jorrvaskr that afternoon.

It takes him only a second to puzzle out my meaning before he laughs heartily and toasts me with his bottle of Nord Mead. The few others in the Hall – Aela, Ria and a new recruit I don't know – stare quizzingly at us, but seem too afraid of the answer to press us.

I stride past them to break the news to my sister-friend.

I swear her excited scream was heard all the way in Riverwood.

"Yayayayay! ThanksFarkas!" She screeches as she takes the stairs two at a time. "Meadsonmetonight!" she informs him as she tries to bear hug the amused larger man.

I roll my eyes in exasperated fondness. "Sister I think you might actually be choking him." I am not jealous. No. That's stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid girl.

"Comeonsisterletsgocelebrate!"

I swipe a paw across my face to try and hide my smile. "What do you have in mind?"

Her face lights up with a slightly mad grin, "well those Battle-Borns are Legion supporters-"

A snicker pushes past my lips. "Say no more; let it be a surprise."

We leave the boat-hall not looking at each other lest we descend into giggles. We take a quick detour back to Breezehome to pick up several items and then take the 'long' route past the guard barracks to the Battle-Born house.

The large house is nice and empty – the son lollygagging around town for no reason – so we quickly get work with our items. The bright blue Stormcloak banners contrast nicely with the warm coloured wood.

Kara giggles madly as we tie the longest across the rafters of the main room.

By the time we tie the short piece up in the latrine even I'm hard pressed to keep my mirth in.

"Oh they're gonna have sabre-kittens!" She exclaims as we duck out the back door.

"Sssh sister!" I admonish with a wide grin. Kara is not a natural sneak but she can pull a prank off with some help. "Now what shall we do?" I ask at a more normal volume. The rest of the day is before us still.

She shrugs. "Balgruufe says there've been some complaints about bandits coming from Loriensis farm. I'm sure Halted-stream is occupied again by now."

"Mmm. I could take my Deadric bow; it feels like the right time to name it." I muse.

"Ugh that thing is scary." She comments. "Give me good old steel."

I tsk. "Spellbreaker."

"Targe of the Blooded."

I laugh in agreement. "Is there not another bandit camp close to Halted-Stream?" I ask. "If we are quick we could hit them both." I suggest happily.

"Yeah Silent Moons. We haven't heard any noise from there though." She replies absently.

"Shall we go anyway?"

She nods.

Our conversation has taken us all the way to Breezehome so I nip in to grab Hircine's Faithful and my Deadric bow and a quiver full of glass arrows – glass being good at slicing through light armour, which is mostly what bandits wear – and then we are on our way through the city gates.

An easy familiar silence wraps around us until we are ankle deep in the scrub of the plains.

"It didn't go anywhere with Rune then?"

I sigh and mourn the shattered silence. It never lasts long with my sister. "No." I answer indifferently. "He is honestly a sweetheart, but thieving was his life, he's never gone outside of Riften except for jobs..."

She smirks. "You'd like someone to swap stories with."

I scrunch my nose at her. "I'm no storyteller. I just mean I would like someone who truly understands when I disappear for a few days."

"Ha! You're in the right place for that, sis." She giggles.

I roll my eyes. I know exactly what she's doing, she not subtle about it, but since Farkas clearly seems to have no idea, and genuinely like spending time with us, so I say nothing about her matching schemes.

"What about you?" I ask curiously. Kara has a few lovers dotted around Skyrim, but as far as I know hasn't shown any interest in settling down.

She shrugs. "I'm happy where I am now."

"None of the Companions have caught your fancy?" I ask with humour.

"Ew no." She replies in horror.

We both burst out laughing scaring a hidden rabbit into the open. I briefly finger my old bow but the tiny thing is already gone from sight. That would be a good chase but Kara would throttle me if I went dashing off now.

"I'm worried my Dovasoul will do more than give me weird knowledge." She admits slowly. "Dragons live outside of time, meaning they age very, very slowly. If that goes for me too..."

I frown with concern.

Kara shrugs a shoulder trying to pass off her worry. "As I said I'm good where I am now."

I say nothing knowing Kara hates empty platitudes just as much as I.

Halted-stream Camp is an hour and a half's walk from Whiterun. To call it a camp though is to mislabel it, as it is in fact an iron ore mine, and it happens to be a strangely popular retreat for bandits. It was the first place Kara and I killed a person, our first adventure – as it where, and our first bounty.

Four years later it still looks exactly the same (from the outside at least), from the messy pine bulwarks, to the lone bandit sentry stationed at the entrance. We are carefully alert as we edge in closer to the camp – from the East, which is really the only way to approach.

With a pull of my bowstring the sentinel goes down without a sound.

We hear a low exclamation but do not panic as this was our plan; opening the large entrance gates would be as suicidal as lighting a bonfire in announcing our presence. Instead we are letting the bandits do all the work for us since we can then pick them off as they rush through the gates to investigate.

Two burst through the gate, weapons draw, a Bosmer and an Imperial by their statures, and a third is hanging back in the entrance with a bow at the ready.

The archer goes down with an arrow in his left eye – mages first, then the archer, as Kara used to repeat every quest – and then the Bosmer who had caught my movements, and finally the oblivious human dies with an arrow in his jugular.

"Is it just me or do they get stupider every year?" Kara mutters.

I laugh huskily. "We've picked off all the clever ones, sister."

"Oh don't remind me. That bastard in Journeyman's Nook died far too cleanly." She mutters hotly.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing too loudly. Kara glares all the same before her expression turns into fighting a smile.

Hilarity over we creep through the doors, heads swivelling, on the look-out for more bandits. One sits atop a ridge the mine is dug into, and another sits with his back to the world working at a grindstone. No wonder these two didn't hear the commotion outside the camp; the squeaking noise of that contraption is deafening.

Kara keeps an eye on the grindstone bandit as I take out the one on the ridge.

This time the Grindstone bandit hears the meaty thud of his mate's body hitting the ground but by the time he gets up and turns around I've readied and aimed another arrow. The mace he had been working on drops from dead hands. He falls back onto the grindstone gurgling blood.

We pass inside cautiously.

Dirt crunches loudly under even my silent pads as we shuffle down the slope, loose stone tumble and clack together, and the air is stale and musty, clogged with the debris from the bandit's mining efforts.

I blink away a strong sense of déjà-vu when at the first level we encounter a bandit mining with his back to us. I'm sure the ratty old table and chair by the gate are the same from our first raid all those years ago.

The sweating Nord falls face first into the ore vein, arrow protruding from the base of his skull, and we slink silently through the unlocked gate.

The rest of the mine seems like one long dream sequence – so thick is the familiarity. It must get dreadfully tiresome for Kara and her band of merry men.

There is even another fresh mammoth corpse in the last, main, room and I still don't understand how the bandits managed to get it in here, even considering the slope from the pit trap. They might have actually worked together without getting into a squabble.

Also like our first time the bandit leader – obvious from the heavy armour as opposed to rough light stuff – notices his underlings dying from arrows in time to hide like the cowardly dog he is, so Kara goes roaring into the room, literally.

Unlike last time Kara is by far more skilled than her opponent.

I watched on from beside the forge as Kara gorily ends the fight nearly before it even starts. After ducking a messy axe swing Kara punches Spellbreaker into his face, staggering him, and then swings it across his throat.

The blood sprays impressively far.

We find the loot is passable, for a bandit camp, and this particular lot were doing quite well, judging by the amount of coin and junk they have, so by the time we've looted the last corpse our money pouches are bulging and our packs are almost too heavy to have on in a fight.

Emerging into the sunlight we judge it has been about an hour since we entered Halted-Stream thus we decide to push eastwards to Silent-Moons camp, which according to my sister is a half hour walk away.


	13. letter the third

This is my shortest letter, and it bothers me greatly, but i honestly cannot think of anything else to add.

Writing is like art; even if you aren't totally happy you gotta learn when to stop or you ruin the whole thing.

Okay so i'm doing a long AN to pad the thing out, sue me! :P

* * *

><p>Chapter 10: letter<p>

_Cyn_

_I have a job for the Guild, but they cannot know it was from me, so I am trusting you to come up with something good. _

_In each of the Dovakiin's houses in every city but Whiterun and Windhelm is a crate of banners. I need you to redecorate some Legion homes for me. Files are in Honeyside, under the floor boards under the bed._

_Up to you who you hit from the lists. _

_Shadows guide you._

_Sen_

_p.s payment for each house hit will make its way to Talos' statue_

Our escapade at Whiterun seems to have set off an avalanche in the other cities.

Kara has literally been wetting herself with laughter as her friends from Morthal and Dawnstar city write to tell her of the reactions. Shouting, blaming, running, fights and attempted murders have been recorded.

I cannot wait for the rest of the cities to be hit.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 11

I have never had the pleasure of visiting Silent-Moon Camp before, although Kara did mention her trip there because of the unusual enchanted items the forge makes, therefore I am surprised to spot the large granite stonework.

It is a Nordic ruin, the remnants of one at least, complete with little stone huts and one of the steepest stair cases I've laid eyes on, discounting the seven thousand steps leading to High Hrothgar of course.

We arrive from the east undetected so I am once again at point with my Deadric bow ready for action and Kara shifting restlessly behind me - also keen for action.

I have a perfect shot across the way to a bandit hunched over a table set up in one of the little huts, and as a bonus another bandit, a female Orc, investigates the movement of my arrow, falling to a second moments after the male in the hut falls forwards dead.

Carefully I peer around the tall defensive wall of the ruin. Instantly I spot the brown leather armour and blonde hair on a plateau halfway up the staircase. I train my arrow on the figure but pause to listen; I hear no footsteps on the stairs so subsequently release my shot.

The body goes tumbling from its seat at the table but to my annoyance sweeps an iron or steel weapon from the table making a right royal racket.

The faint strains of a song suddenly cut off, an exclamation rings out, and I swing around the wall with by bow angled nearly to the sky.

A second Orc – possibly a sibling although it is hard to tell from this distance - stands at the very top of the staircase in the entrance of the ruin proper. He has an ebony chest piece and an elven warhammer I note absently.

He spots me too late; my glass arrow bursts through the underside of his chin and topples him backwards where he lands with a might bang.

Silence.

I relax my half crouched posture and return my bow and unused arrow to my back holsters. Kara saunters out from cover with eyes bright from childish admiration.

"The only thing cooler than you wielding that bow is when you throw people twice your size." She compliments as she ascends the steps.

I grin hugely at her back, glad the years have not dulled my skills, or her wonder at them.

I raid the bottom area, finding yet more coin, several interesting looking potions, a chest of assorted gems, and a few lockpicks I will hang onto out of habit more than a need. I glimpse Kara staggering from the ruins arms loaded with green glowing weaponry, where she dumps it all by the ebony clad body.

With a mental shrug I empty several food sacks and make my way up to the pile while Kara turns right back around and disappears once again into the ruin. I must have a quick look in at the forge before we go.

As you may imagine this is not the first time we have cannibalised random food sacks. Nor shall it be the last I think. They are certainly useful – big and made for carrying decently weighted loads and are usually weather-proofed.

Kara returns a second time with a bundle of elven arrows, two healing potions and a couple of necklaces dangling from her fingers. With a smirk she drops the loot at my feet and quickly turns and bends over the Orc body. I sigh and begin packing.

"How much d'ya reckon?" she asks as she finally loosens the ebony cuirass.

I shrug. "For the armour? Between one thousand and one-five - depending on the condition." I estimate. "As for the rest? I think we are looking at three thousand including the ebony."

Her eyebrows rise.

"That's half of what I've spent on this job." I tell her unashamed. I'd spend thrice that if I needed to.

I glance at her to find she is shaking her head. "I don't get where it all goes."

I open my mouth to explain but my sister cuts me off with a slicing gesture.

"I don't need to know; I trust you Sen."

"I know."

We grab the full bags and make our way down the stairs, barely registering that it is about lunch time as the sun is at its highest point, more than ready to go home and have a sit down, nice hot meal and a nice cold drink.

* * *

><p>I look up from the cooking pot as Kara saunters in. I still find it odd when she is in her civilian clothing – a blue dress today – because I am just too used to seeing her all plated up. Then again she must find it odd when I'm not in my leathers. I certainly do.<p>

"Did you decide on a name?" She asks pointing to the Deadric bow set up neatly in a corner, ready for cleaning tonight. It has been two days since we went to the bandit camps; I have been ruminating very seriously.

"Kynareth's eye." I state after an uncertain pause.

The half Breton bursts out laughing.

"You're naming something Deadric after an Aedra? Priceless!" She exclaims.

I grin, slightly embarrassed, but mostly proud.

Kara squeezes my shoulder gently before lowering herself into one of the two armchairs by the fire side. The venison stew I am cooking is almost ready. "I think it's perfect." She assures me once she has stopped chuckling.

* * *

><p>Today it has been twelve days since I arrived in Whiterun. It seems both longer and shorter – shorter because I've been kept very busy, but shorter because I miss Riften.<p>

My plan for Wuuthrad is nearly complete; we (read mostly me with a few unhelpful comments from Kara) are mostly just fine-tuning the details now since all of the useful reports like guard rota, floor plans, and lock systems have been compiled.

I still miss my guild terribly.

The companionship (excuse the pun) of my soul-sister has taken the poison from the wound, and the friendship that Kodlak and Farkas have extended to me has kept the wound clean, so the healing processes has started off well, but it still hurts so much.

It is the little things like seeing red hair and expecting a 'hello lass', or hearing a husky laugh and wanting to ask Rune what's so funny, or even hearing a haughty scoff only to wonder what has annoyed Vex this time.

Speaking of my ex-paramour; Delvin wrote me to say that Rune has left Skyrim to join the Bruma branch of the Guild, seriously unhappy at my rejection. The old boy has also kept me up to date with how the Guild are fairing – which is to say its pretty much business as usual. Vekel and Tolnia are going through another rough patch for the same vague reasons as ever. Cyndric is moping a little. Yet, he writes, the Guild seems to have lost its lustre.

Their luck still seems to be holding at least.

I honestly wish most of them the best and I have resolved to write a letter to my Cyrodillian ex-guildmates to check on Rune.

"Brooding again furry one?"

A flick of the ear is all the response I dignify Farkas with. At present I sit by the Skyforge, unable to stay in Breezehome by myself any longer, but too tired to entertain Kara 'bundle of energy' Dragonborn.

Farkas says nothing else just eases himself down on the rocks next to me. Near enough that I am aware of his presence but not close enough to intrude. How he manages it I am unsure but I suppose with the more volatile Vilkas as a sibling he's had much practise.

We watch on in silence as Athis and Petra spar in the courtyard using maces and old wood shields. He is quicker and usually winds because of that. However if she gets a hit in he is out for the count due to her sheer strength. They retire after several bouts.

Twilight descends before I let out a sigh and shift around to kiss Farkas' cheek with warm gratitude.

"See you tomorrow."

I bound down the rocky outcropping fighting a blush. He looked stunned.

* * *

><p>The Harbinger summons me by note on the morning of the fourteenth day since I came to Whiterun. I slip into a full boat-hall knowing exactly what is about to be said. We have debated this for a couple of days now; I left it up to Kodlak's discretion to break it to the troupe.<p>

"We are as prepared as we can be." Kodlak announces. "Tomorrow we enact Senka's plan."

The hall is grave and silent at the news.

Word has just begun to spread across Skyrim that Tullius has Ysgramor's waraxe – gods only know how that got out – so now the Companions now look weak and Ulfric more noble and true than ever. Opinion on Tullius has not seemed to have changed much; he's either a milk-drink or a great General that knows what he's doing even if no-one else does.

Kara is especially short of temper now; even Vilkas is keeping out of her way.

As I predicted it has taken two weeks for us to be ready. There is a palpable air of restlessness amongst the warriors with only Farkas sitting calm and steady like a boulder in a river. Kodlak's hands are shaking terribly. I hope that is from nervousness rather than a worsening of his condition. Brain Rot, he confided yesterday.

Athis and Tovar left two days ago for Dawnstar, contract in hand, and should arrive in Solitude, by boat, on the day that Kara and her team arrive. Farkas and I leave today since he has a contract in Dragonsbridge.

After some last minute admonishments from Kodlak he dismisses the hall.

Farkas and I are leaving today so we are leaving now. Kara comes bounding along behind us, glee unhidden in her eyes, to see us off (and probably give us lots of useless advice).

At the stables two unremarkable chestnut horses await us quietly. We came out to laden them up earlier in the day. Ri'saad and his group left five days ago after wishing me much luck and Tullius many headaches.

"Now behave yourselves!" She grins saucily.

I blush faintly under my fur and give her the Stink Eye my Ancestors would be proud of. "Don't fuck this up Kara." I snarl in reply before sharply turning my horse around and urging into a trot before she can reply.

Farkas follows after a pause, probably embarrassed and unsure what to say.

I get the feeling that Kara is gesturing rudely at my back but I refuse to turn around to check.

We are nearly at Riverwood when I am finally calm enough for my fur to lay flat once more. Stupid sister. Nosy mare! Why is it only my love life she interferes with? Perhaps because it is the only facet of my life I'd prefer she butt out of.

It is now that I realise there is a horrible awkward silence between Farkas and I.

This is going to be a long ride methinks.


	15. chapter 15

Chapter 12

The settlement of Riverwood is relatively busy and I am unsurprised to spot the children come charging over to stare at me in fascination, puzzlement and a little fear. The large shaggy dog that accompanies them sniffs the air and growls suspiciously.

A little Blonde haired girl is the first to find her voice. "Look it's a cat person!"

A small dark haired boy peeks around the dog. "Like a sabre cat?" He asks quietly.

The girl cocks her head. "No 'Kah-jeet'. Mummy talks about them. Says they're bab-brab-not nice."

Their voices are fairly low but all Khajiit have acute hearing so they may as well be shouting. Farkas seems to have fairly good hearing too from what I have observed. I think it may be a side-effect of once being a werewolf.

"Well this one doesn't look bad." The boy says. "She's kind of pretty." The girl hums in agreement.

The comments do have to positive effect of the breaking the awkward silence between us.

"Is it always like that?" Farkas ventures once we are well clear of Riverwood.

I make a husky sound that could have been a chuckle or a sob. "Usually it is worse. The adults regularly join in, and they are typically less then friendly." I roughly announce.

I can feel Farkas frowning heavily. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It is not your fault." I dismiss.

Our horse's wicker nervously as wolf howls echo around us, though from the volume they are nothing to worry about, yet. Skyrim is full of the menaces. Bears are just as bad and much harder to kill.

"So tell me about the job?" I venture to ask, not terribly interested, but needing the silence broken.

"A pest problem." He states succinctly. At my look he continues hastily. "Could be anything from skeevers to bears."

I frown. "Bears I might understand, but skeevers? Just poison the nest."

"We usually do. People are squeamish." I concede his statement with a shrug.

There is another pause of silence but I again break the silted atmosphere by talking. I feel like a young cat talking too much to my contacts to cover my nerves.

"When were you born?" I ask curiously.

He shrugs. "Jergen, a Companion, rescued us. We were about three years old he thought. We've always celebrated that date as our birth day. Last Seed."

I grimace. "I am sorry to hear that. Birth dates are very important to Khajiit for the moon phases dictate what form we take." His eyebrows rise in puzzlement. "I'm no expert; all I learnt was from Ma'dran." I warn. "There are seventeen types of Khajiit that can be put into five categories, which can be broken into two main differences;

Those who walk on two legs, and those who walk on four. The fifth category is called The Mane. They are rare and mystical and supposedly bipedal. My mother was an Ohmes-rhat; small and bipedal. My father was a Tojay; a fairly large type of bipedal cat that have spots."

His face is rapt with attention. "Brothers or sister?"

I laugh a little. "No. I asked father once and he replied that having two children was enough. Mother wouldn't let him in the bed that night."

Farkas laughs.

This time I answer more seriously. "If I had to guess I think mother enjoyed her work too much and father was afraid that either we'd be caught up to one day or that they would follow in her footsteps." I feel my ears droop. "And he was right, on both counts."

"You mother was a thief too?" He exclaims astonished.

I nod with a wry expression.

"I understand." He eventually states, totally surprising me. "Vilkas and I grew up in Jorrvaskr; we didn't even think about not joining up when we came of age. Aela was the same; her mother, her mother's mother, and so on was Companions."

I feel a warm smile of empathy bloom in my eyes. He smiles back with a blush colouring his cheeks.

The rest of the day passes with little talk between us but this time with no awkwardness. I like Farkas. His calmness is relaxing and it's nice to just sit quietly with someone. I naturally prefer to stay quiet and in the background, which someone loud like Kara doesn't put up with.

The next day Farkas is in a strangely chatty mood, regaling me with stories about Jergen. He had me laughing so hard at one point tears were streaming from my eyes. I gladly returned the favour with stories from my own childhood.

"How did your parents die?" He asks gently when we stop for lunch.

"Mother got into trouble." I admit. "Again." I add. He frowns. "Father and I would go out into the black forest to hunt whilst we waited for mother to return from her jobs so we didn't even know something was wrong until it was too late.

Hirelings found our camp, only three of them, thank Nocturnal. We took two out but father was killed by the third. I ran for it even though the last was badly injured. When I finally got home Ma'dran was there; Mother was killed on the job a few days before."

I shudder at the unhappy memories. Farkas grabs my paw and squeezes supportively.

"The other hireling died lost in the forest but Ma'dran still hid me until we sold everything and my parents were buried in the cemetery. He took me in and we left Cryodiil just over a month later."

"Gods!" Farkas exclaims roughly.

I shrug. "It has been a long time. I've dealt with it."

Farkas shakes his head but says nothing else. I take a gulp of mead to help wash away the memories.

"We were captured by necromancers. We were the only ones still alive and Jergen couldn't see anyone that looked like us in the cave. We think were held captive for a long time, but we aren't really sure." He tells me steadily. "I don't really remember much of it. We've never found a trace of our real parents."

I squeeze his hand as he has done mine.

Now that there is a lull in our conversation we finish our drinks and return to the road.

We make it to Karthspire two days later. Obviously we go around since it is a Forsworn camp. We've also begun to slow down due to getting tangled in several small attacks per day – thankfully they've only been groups of three or four, which is nothing we cannot handle.

"You know sometimes we used to think Kara was exaggerating your stories." Farkas casually states. "But you have the eyes of a hawk! I thought Aela was good!" he exclaims sincerely.

I blush. "Thank you."

We know we have hit the Haafingar border when we have gone a day without a Forsworn attack. They are rightfully leery of gaining the Legions attention, so they mostly leave the northern part of the Solitude road alone.

By my reckoning we are at Dragonsbridge twenty days after we leave Whiterun.

The contract is piss easy in comparison: a cave bear has been terrorising some of the residents but the Agents are too lazy to deal with it. So we take a detour up into the hills and track the damn thing to a cosy cave.

Due mostly to the element of surprise Farkas is able to put his sword through its chest before it does more than swipe at his armour.

The townspeople are very vocal in their gratitude, which Farkas takes with his normal good humour and easy charm. I feel a grin pull at my lips as the last of the children stop yelling goodbye.

"So," I begin swiftly gaining his attention, "is it always like that?"

His deep roaring laugh sends a deer scurrying for cover in the trees.

"Seriously though?" I ask once our laughter has died down.

Farkas shrugs. "Sure. We've loads of 'after job party' stories." He grins suddenly, like a little boy, all teeth and dimples. "There was this one time, years ago, Vilkas and I went up to Dawnstar – there was a bad Frostroll problem – so that night at the inn everyone and the jarl was there, plying us with drinks...

Last thing I remember is Vilkas and bard, a girlie, singing Ragnar the Red on one the tables, and a couple of women miners half sprawled on the bar..." he pauses, obviously getting to the punch line, and I find myself leaning in.

"When I wake up I'm curled up in the forge, a bottle of mead in each hand and nothing but a blacksmith apron on-" I choke on my breath. "- I find Vilkas an hour later passed out in the stables, with the bard, both naked as a horker."

"Noo that's an image I didn't need!" I complain even as we both descend into chuckles.

"That's how our jobs end most of the time." He states happily. "I bet you've a few stories too."

"Ha! Yes, a few." I snort. "Alright, let's see... I remember one particular night, two years ago, in Rain's Hand; a few of us came back from several jobs. All successful. So we broke the good mead out.

We start bragging and ragging on each other. Normal stuff." I grin. "I do not know how much mead he'd had, but Delvin decides to lean over and try to crop a feel." I sigh in exasperation just thinking about the results. "I was so drunk I didn't even notice but I had a thing with Rune at the time..."

Farkas groans around his laughter. "And he sees."

"Oh yeah. Did I mention Rune's a Nord and Delvin a Breton?" I add knowingly. "Rune threw the first punch, but soon enough everyone was at it. Even I. Tolnia had a nice shiner for several days if I remember correctly.

Anyway the next day found Delvin with his nose broken for the ninth time. I woke with a bootless Sapphire behind Vekel's bar. Bryn, Cyndric and Tolnia had attempted to go topside on a bender and had in fact passed out somewhere in the sewers."

I giggle along with Farkas.

"And to top it off? Someone thought it would be funny to hide every scrap of underwear." I pause. "It took us two days to find it all stuffed into the offering chest of the Temple of Mara."

His giggle turns into an infectious roar of laughter.

Just then we round the corner to catch sight of the farm just before Solitude.

Our mirth dies a quick death.


	16. letter the fourth

This is my favourite Chapter. How did you think I did with Babette? She and Farkas are the easiest voices for me. In fact how have I done with all the characters voices?

* * *

><p>Chapter 12: letter<p>

_B_

_I find myself short of potion. Only yours will do. _

_Also I am sure you would love to discuss recent developments. _

_I need to name drop too. _

_If you're interested come asap. Shits gonna hit the windmill soon._

_S_

"You do know how to pique a girl's interest, Senka."

The drawling voice more than the sudden appearance of an extra shadow causes me to jump nearly out of my boots. I throw a glance over my shoulder but Farkas is still sound asleep in his bedroll. Thank Stendarr. Gods know how he would react to Babette.

When I turn back around to the fire I am unsurprised to find the vampiress across from me, smiling brightly, with a pack neatly beside her feet. Her cloak is the same shade of dark grey of the ranked Guild members.

"I try." I drawl back with a toothy smile.

She giggles but instead of launching into a discussion of the details Babette digs two poison vials from her pack. In response I hold up two bejewelled necklaces. Obviously happy with the exchange she settles beside me to swap treasures.

My paralysis poison.

"And the names?"

I slip a small piece of parchment from my gauntlet and hand it to her silently.

"Markarth Hold?" She questions. Then her eyebrows knit together. "Legion Spies."

My mouth drops open. How on Nirn did she figure that out? She glances up and smirks at my expression, showing a slither of fang.

"Descriptions. Accidents. Blackmail material. Habits." She lists absently. "Easily done, my friend, but it is going to cost you." This time she grins with all her teeth. Not that her fangs intimidate me too much; I have my own, thank you.

I roll my eyes. "Of course. Kara has a stash of money in the abandoned house just up from the Inn - it will smell of Deadra by the way, but you should be fine. The money is in a food sack on one of the bookcases. I forget which. There should be enough but help yourself if you find any more."

Her smile is blinding.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 13

Our first day in Solitude is spent dusting out Proudspire – we haven't been to the city in months so the dust layers are inches thick, having our dented armour repaired, re-stocking my arrows, and shopping for food.

We are done by dinner time (having arrived mid afternoon) where I soon discover that Farkas is charmingly domestic.

I look on from the doorway as the dark-haired Nord begins chopping the Venison in ways Kara and I could never be bothered with, then he does the same with the carrots, leeks and potatoes, and it all actually looks appetising when it is all thrown in a pot of boiling water together – said pot and water being my only contribution.

"Kara used to burn everything." I comment.

"Still does." He replies with a laugh.

The stew he ladles up is some of the tastiest I have had in years. Hell of a lot better than mine or Kara's. Not as good as Sapphire's.

"Why aren't you married?" I jokingly ask.

His laugh crinkles up the corner of his eyes. My belly flip-flops and I smile back automatically.

Damn Kara.

"So what are we doing tomorrow?" He asks.

It takes me a second but I eventually shrug in response. "I will probably sleep much of the day. You're welcome to do as you please."

"What? Why?"

I gesture to the window and the darkness closing in. "I will be following the guard tonight to learn their behaviour."

He frowns at me. "Isn't that what all those papers were for?"

"Yes and no." I answer, knowing I am confusing him. "I know the routes and how long they take on it, but I do not know how observant they are; do they look up? Do they stop at the tiniest noise? Are they likely to check it out? Do they discuss it with each other? Do they become more complacent in the Castle Dour area, or is the opposite true?"

His expression is not a happy one. Neither is mine and in fact a headache is forming.

"How do you do this all the time?"

I chuckle mirthlessly. "Delegation, and when I can't do that I get blind drunk."

"Ha!"

"The night after I'm going to attempt a break in - if I deem it possible."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sen." He exclaims alarmed.

"Noted."

"Morning Sen." Farkas brightly greets as I close the front door. I turn to find a plate with a single still warm sweetroll sitting dead centre.

I'm not close to bursting into tear. I'm not.

"How did it go?" He asks obliviously as he follows me into the living area.

My movements are, as you might expect, slow. My thoughts are muzzy. My pads hurt. I flop gratefully into an upholstered chair with the plate held protectively close to my chest and curl up as best I can.

"Fuck a Deadra." I growl.

Farkas mock winces. "That bad huh? Lots of guard's right?" He asks knowingly. "I went to the Skeever to see if Athis and Tovar had arrived. You can't take two steps without bumping into a guard." He recounts blithely.

A headache is forming no matter how much I try to massage it away.

"So you won't be breaking in?" He asks quickly. Smooth Farkas.

I shake my head in the negative and the look of utter relief on his face gives me fuzzy feels in my chest. He is honestly concerned about me and not trying to imply that I am not up to the challenge like what my fellows would say.

"What's wrong, Sen? You look like you're about to cry."

I sigh gustily. "Unless we can come up with something else we are going to have to stick to the original plan... which is not going to work with the amount of guard out there."

"Thinking is Vilkas' thing."

I hiss softly. "I am not asking The Vicious One."

The title brings back a grin to his face. "Alright, so, what did you find out?"

I smile encouragingly at him. "They're good, for city guards, but you can tell who the Legionnaires are; they're sharper than their cohorts." I toss the empty plate onto an end stand and sit up feeling much more awake. "Between the sounds from the Skeever and their late evening practises there is a fair amount of noise – enough to cover me going in at least."

"Buut?" He cajoles.

"Buut," I mimic, "there are too many eyes." I feel my tail lash as my emotions becomes frustrated. "I got to the Temple but then got pinned for four hours." I growl. "That was the only way in."

"So we need to thin their numbers out more." He half asks.

"Yes. Athis and Tovar's antics will only draw the peripherals away – the ones stumping me are further in." I elaborate.

His face is a study of intense concentration; moon-blue eyes staring hard at nothing, thick brows pulled way down over them and his lips pulled down at the corners while he chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. I on the other hand lean back in my seat in a relaxed pose as I watch Farkas.

"How many need to leave?"

I consider quickly. "Six at least. Perhaps more."

"Would they have taken meals together?"

I blink as I ransack my memory. "Yes, most would have had an evening meal together..." I gasp. "You mean to spike their food?"

Farkas blushes a little.

"It would work." I encourage even as I think through the logistics. "It wouldn't be difficult to make it look like the meat had gone bad and add in a laxative..." I spy the Nord making a face from the corner of my eye. "Although getting to the meat..."

"What about their drinks?" He asks, waving his bottle in the air between us.

And that sends my poor tired mind spiralling into a frenzy the likes of which even Kara 'butterfly' Dovakiin would have trouble keeping up with... money, bottles, donations, time lapses, key places to have under surveillance.

"We need to see Gulum-Ei." I announce before bounding energetically from my seat. Sleep can wait.

"Who?"

I take a breath to explain before I pause and turn to him. "He is a contact for the Guild."

We stare at each other. Assessing.

"I will tell you more if you wish. I trust you, friend." I say gently. "But it could get you into trouble."

"Maybe some when else."

I smile winningly. "Another time." I turn back and carry on out into the weak autumn sunlight. The air is sweetly scented with flowers now as opposed to crisp and sharp like dawn this morning when I first came back.

"So I just need to look menacing." He states with a feral grin.

I grin back. "Frown a little and cross your arms. The Lizard will be wetting himself."

"And don't act surprised no matter what you do or say?"

I blink back at him. He smiles blithely back. "Icebrain my tail."

He winks at me and meanders ahead in the direction of the Skeever. I can't help laughing.

The market place is as lively as always and we enter the teaming inn casually enough, and lo I am unsurprised to find Gulum is in exactly the same place as he was when I first met him three years ago when I was still scrabbling at the bottom of the guild pile.

Farkas goes straight to the bar and returns in a second with a tankard. In the meantime I have slid into a chair facing the lizard causing him to jump at the sudden movement. I notice his eyes bulge as Farkas sits at the table behind me; in perfect view of the cowardly Argonian.

"Senka... long time no see." Gulum warbles nervously. "What can I do for you?"

I grin toothily.

The lizard gulps and laughs nervously. "I know that look, when should I duck for cover?"

I snort. "Just lay low for a week." I throw him that lifeline before leaning forwards to get on with business. "Now, I need a few items by lunchtime tomorrow." I state in a low tone. The bard is playing her flute, but it pays to be cautious.

I note Gulum's eyes tighten – an Argonian grimace. "What and how many?"

I consider quickly. "Two crates of good drink. Mead and perhaps some Wine? And the equivalent in weak poison and laxative."

"By tomorrow!" He exclaims loudly eyes wide in apprehension. Several patrons look our way, but Farkas clanks his bottle sharply and glares heavily, and suddenly the walls and ceiling are so very interesting.

"Quiet, fool!" I hiss. "I am not stupid, lizard, I know you still have the grotto."

He gulps again but doesn't start denials.

"And since I am no longer a guild member I expect your prices have gone up, mm?" I coax, knowing exactly how this walking handbag works.

Sure enough his eyes start to gleam greedily. "Naturally." He coughs like he hadn't meant to say that aloud. Fool. "I mean, why don't you come by after noon; I should have everything ready." He puts in a little more smoothly.

My tail twitches in annoyance. "If you even have it." I say sarcastically.

"I'm sure I'll have something to suit your needs." He desperately cuts in.

My top lip curls up over my teeth in a vaguely threatening gesture. "Expect me two hours after noon." I curtly but politely say, and then with a sharp nod I leave the table. Behind me I sense Farkas waits a beat before silently rising. If the loud raspy gulp is anything to go by Farkas may have glared a little.

I take a shaky breath of air. I never have liked the nervous lizard.

"Alright Sen?"

"Yes, just tired." I dismiss. "I will sleep now. If you could wake me an hour after noon?"

"Sure. I guess I'm not needed this time?"

The sun is stabbing my eyes, causing a light headache to form, but we are at the Hall of the Dead now so I press on. "If you wouldn't mind hanging around the EEC docks I could use some help getting our stuff up to the city."

He frowns lightly as we pass into the house. "Okay..." I glance back questioningly. "I'll be there, but I'm worried. I don't know what to do. What if we get into trouble?"

I turn to him on the stairs. "My best advice? If you can't _immediately_ think up a _very_ good reason for where you are or what you're doing? Say nothing at all." I take a few steps up before turning back. "And don't run unless you know a very good hiding place you can access immediately _without_ being found."

"Okay."

I am at my bedroom door and only stop long enough to kick off my boots. Farkas hesitates in the doorway as I flop on the bed.

"If they try to arrest us don't fight them." I continue. "If you are unconscious or injured I won't be able to get you out."

His eyes widen. "You jail break?"

I pause. Too late to take that back now. "Bribes usually suffice but we have to be careful now. We cannot afford to languish in jail for more than a few hours..."

His sigh is aggravated but to my relief he doesn't argue.

"This is for Kara." I murmur. "Anything goes when it comes to helping my sister."

"I understand Sen." He sincerely states.

"I know."

We stare at each other silently for less than thirty seconds before he smiles and leaves my room. I wonder what he really thinks of me? I wonder what he thinks of Kara now? Has she lost esteem in his eyes for associating with criminals?

I toss and turn before drifting into an uneasy sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 14

Next thing I know I am being shaken awake. I growl warningly. Unfortunately my brain knows we have things to do even if my body doesn't, so I am wide awake before Farkas has to risk his fingers some more.

"Sorry Sen."

I hiss gently even as I stretch.

I change from my normal clothes to my trusty set of leather armour. I do have my Nightingale set but I am sure that is a little overkill for today's mission. Not to mention just a tiny bit suspicious and attention gathering.

Once downstairs I slurp last night's re-heated stew like it personally dragged me from bed. Farkas happily munches on an apple as he reads King. Kara has a thing about collecting books.

Finally I am awake enough that this afternoon feels like it won't kill me so with a summoning flick of my tail Farkas and I grab our weapons and are off through the city.

"New plan." I state in a low voice. "There are some stairs through there-" I point discreetly to the gate under the Windmill. "-which go all the way down to the Port. We'll use those to come back up; it should save us some time and attention."

We pass into the 'market' area. "So why aren't we using them now?" Farkas questions.

"More chance people will think we are up to no good if we go up _and_ down." I reply easily.

We fall silent again as we come near the shops. Not only are there crowds of people, but as Farkas observed yesterday, you cannot take a step without seeing a guard. In the back of my mind panic wells up. Far too many guards. The scowls on the local's faces tell me that they are not best pleased with the whole situation.

"Do I go in with you?" He asks.

I consider. "That would be a good idea. Crates aren't easy to carry and the tunnels are iffy."

"I brought a book in case you wanted me to stay outside." He says sheepishly.

I blink in surprise. "Which one? I can't imagine many of ours would appeal to you."

He pinkens. "Racial Physiology."

"Ah." I intone knowingly. "Have a sudden burning interest, hm?"

He shrugs. "Well yeah. I skimmed it once 'coz Vilkas left it out but I want another read. Aren't you interested in our differences?"

"Yes. I asked one of the Leyawiin temple healers – an Argonian incidentally – when I was barely into my teens. She explained using that book." I grin a little remembering the soft-hearted old lizard.

"I've never really thought about the differences. Whiterun doesn't seem to get non-humans." He admits. "Or it never used to when I was younger." He adds.

"Kara read it religiously when she really started using restoration. I think she was worried she'd make my injuries worse otherwise." I tell him.

He chuckles. "If you worry about her as much as she worries about you..."

I laugh. "Worry? Never." We pass through the city gate unmolested. There are more guards than usual out here too. A small contingent are trooping own the hill ahead of us, probably making their way to the docks.

He grins like I've told him a juicy secret. "You do worry. Kara tuts and grouses like a bear sometimes when she reads your letters. We always know when she gets a letter from her sister."

"I bet she would huff herself into a snit."

Farkas laughs in agreement. "Vilkas once told her to go outside 'coz all the food was blowing off the table'."

I shake my head in disbelief even as I chuckle.

We are quiet until we reach EEC offices where again you can't swing a Skeever for all the guards. Although we do get a few suspicious scowls we are thankfully left alone to make our way over the Company warehouse to the other side where Solitude sits on its famous stone arch.

"I feel like I've done something wrong already." Farkas quips as we pass the last pair. I nearly choke on my laughter.

Not many boats are in at the moment but I suppose most will be out fishing or something at this time of day. Only two are in, both cargo ships from the looks of the large crates being off-loaded. The EEC employs humans more than the other races, unlike Windhelm.

Scruff and Mountain flowers soon begin to crop up on the banks of the river and I sigh in longing as a monarch butterfly lazily opens and closes its wings on a thistle. I was cooped up in the Cistern for far too long this year.

"I bet it's been a while since you went on a proper hunt, huh?" Farkas asks. Was I that obvious?

"Hmm months at least." I agree sadly. "I will have to go on a sabbatical when this job is over."

The natural grey-stone arch rises over our heads now, blocking what little sun warmth there was, and in two more steps I spot the lantern at the entrance to our shortcut. I am not sure who keeps it lit; I have never seen anyone come along this way before.

"This is it." I state unnecessarily. The door is rotten and ill fitting. "It is dark, narrow and steep, but better than going all the way around." I motion the Nord onwards. "We use it regularly."

We pass around the other side of the arch, where the wind is so cold and biting it seems to totally ignore my armour and fur; even Farkas shivered. The sea is iron grey and the waves are high, but the sky is clear for as far as the eyes can see.

"How long will this take?" Farkas asks suddenly.

"No more than an hour really." I estimate after a think. "Last I heard the lizard kept a few mercenaries in his grotto as bodyguards. They should know to let us through unchecked-"

"-but they might try to take our stuff on the way back." Farkas finishes for me.

I sigh wirily. His frown is severe.

I'm not intimidated. I'm not! Mercer was far more terrifying than this soft-hearted bear of a man. In fact Hagravens are scarier than Farkas. And Deadra. And little vampire girls named Babette.

I spy a ship on the horizon and through the trees I note that the dainty sloade is not at its usual station on the shore. I wonder if it is pirating or fishing? I know in its recent history it has done both.

"Ever been on a boat?" I ask Farkas.

"Nope. Don't wanna either."

I laugh. "You are not missing much. Kara and I have been on a boat – a couple of times actually – and it made me sick both times." I wrinkle my nose in remembrance. The first time was from Dawnstar to Solitude and the second from Solitude to Windhelm.

Farkas valiantly tries to muffle his laughter in his hand but when I turn and shake a fist at him he loses the battle, not that I mind, his cheer is infectious. The crispy salty air tastes good on my tongue and my lungs are glad for the lack of fish aftertaste – the biggest downside to Riften.

After ten more minutes we come to the grotto entrance on the coastline.

"A cave." I glance back at Farkas curiously. "Dark. Dangerous." He grins wolfishly.

I blink stupidly but have to chuckle at his ridiculousness anyway. "Okay then... Be prepared for a long trek, and mind your footing, last I remember some of the walkways were rather narrow in places."

Thankfully the pathways are lit in just the right places, but the walls are dank and slimy, and the floors crumble away as we move. The air becomes stale and tastes like mould the further in we walk, much to Farkas' displeasure.

We encounter a handful of brawny mercenaries along the way but they merely eye us suspiciously. At least they are well fed; an undercompensated band will certainly cause us trouble, these ones may have enough to leave us alone.

"Nice place. You come here often?" Farkas mutters lightly.

I snort out a laugh.

Twenty minutes later I'm in deep negotiations with Gulum. Now I remember why we hung onto the coward. The lizard does know his way around cargo. He even set everything I might need out for me to peruse, which wins him points, and his hard bargaining gains him some respect.

We come away with two crates of drink – Black-Briar reserve and West Weald wine – and a small bag of mild stamina poison (side effects include drowsiness, light-headedness, and joint pains) and powdered laxative.

In a second bag are some tools I will need to make it look like the bottles _haven't_ been tampered with. I threw in a nice shiny jewelled necklace for that thoughtfulness.

An hour later we are back outside the grotto.

"Sill okay with the crates Farkas?" I ask over my shoulder. I am merely carrying the two lighter bags.

"Just fine." He answers easily. "I read the book while you were talking. Have you ever heard of Khajiit Halflings?"

I wrack my memory. "Only third hand. Ri'saad claims a friend told him about a half Altmer half Khajiit." I shrug. "I am not inclined to believe - if only because those haughty elves would not sully themselves so."

"Do you think it's possible?" He presses.

I groan. "I don't know, I suppose. A male Khajiit would probably contribute eye colour, or our enhanced sight. Possibly even the ability to see in the dark."

Farkas laughs a little. "A human with a tail."

I roll my eyes.

"Do you want kittens?" He asks after a pause.

I feel my eyebrows rise in surprise. "Cubs. I have not thought much on it honestly. I suppose eventually I will, but it is not a burning need."

"I want cubs." He coughs. "I mean children."

I grin to myself. "What about your brother?"

"He's like you – thinks he has all the time in the world. He's sweet on Ria."

"That's cute." I comment.

An easy silence descends on us as we trudge around the coastline. My ears prick at the chime of a Nirnroot plant but I am relieved I don't have to go find it – the guild keeps Maven's daughter in stock and Karliah appreciated ingredients.

Farkas just squeezes through the rotten door to the stairs and with some careful shuffling I take the lead up the first flight of stairs. With much concentration I just about light our path with a candlelight spell – magic has never been my strong suit.

"Kara never said you knew magic."

I cackle. "She tried teaching me, but after I set her hair alight trying to summon a bow she gave up. I know this spell and a basic healing one." I can feel Farkas silently laughing at my back. "I can't imagine you have good memories of magic."

"Not really, but we've gone to Temple healers enough times. It's not all bad, I'm just not interested." He state easily. "I can use a bow, but I'm not very good with it. Have you been taught how to use other weaponry?"

"Not really." I huff a little. "Most Khajiit are taught hand-to-hand, because of our claws."

He gasps. "You're telling me you punch things to death?" He asks with obvious delight.

I feel a stupid smile spread on my face. "Remind me to tell you about the dragon at Arcwind Point later on."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 15

"So tell me about the dragon at Arcwind point?" Farkas asks.

It is evening now, the bottles of wine and mead have been spiked and readied for delivery tomorrow to the guard barracks, and we are relaxing after a hearty dinner of rabbit roast. All evidence of our tampering has been buried in a barrel in the basement of Proudspire.

I laugh. "Oh that's a tale. Go grab a couple of meads and get comfortable." I shift around until I am good and cosy. Farkas returns quickly with an armful of drinks and hands me a blackbriar reserve.

"Okay I'm good."

I take a sip and begin my tale. "If you remember I told you I found my Deadric bow in Arcwind point?" He nods. "This was at that time. Kara had defeated Alduin four months beforehand but she had continued to visit the Greybeards to ask about the Word Walls."

"The glowy walls?" Farkas asks, to which I nod in answer.

"Those. She had found the majority before she confronted the World-Eater, but there were a few stray walls she had missed." I grin suddenly. "We had to infiltrate the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Falkreath to get one once."

"What!?" Farkas roars.

I laugh aloud. "Perhaps I make it sound more exciting than it was. In reality this one had made a good connection with one of them – through the need of paralysis poison, and she told me about the strange wall, so I told her about Kara's mission. She agreed to let us in and let us go – as long as we were not seen by any of her brethren."

I sit back and watch with amusement as he tries to process the story.

Finally Faraks sits back down from his wild gesturing and I carry on my tale. "At any rate, Kara had heard from one of her friends that there was an Ancient Nordic settlement, now called Arcwind point, near Iverstead."

"Oh?"

"There are two ways of getting to it – one was near Fort Neugrad and the other is upwards from Autumnwatch Tower. We went up the former way." I lean back into the arm of the chair. "Kara had Dawnbreaker at that time, I remember, and I was using the Dragonbone bow Kara had made – she named it Krosis because she thought it would be funny."

Farkas laughs in agreement.

"So off we trot up the mountain range. There was already a blanket of snow, though it was not yet very deep, and soon enough the first of the stone archways appeared." I wave an arm over my head to demonstrate. "By the time we got the end of the way it was early evening, but we could see a little stone mound, you know, like Journeyman's Nook."

I take another swig of my reserve.

"What happened to Krosis?" Farkas asks quietly.

I sigh. "I lost it in Irkngthand over a year later." I wave away any other questions. Definitely something I don't want to talk about. "So we see this mound and decide that it would do for shelter for the night. We are a mere two fathoms away when a roar erupts from behind us."

Farkas winces.

"Frost troll." I supply drolly. "Nothing we could not handle by ourselves. Unfortunately there is a distant answering roar that worries us because of its horrid familiarity." I grin a little in remembrance. "We round the corner and gasp in awe at the sight before us."

Farkas leans forwards eagerly.

"Arcwind was not a settlement like the other Nordic ruins. In fact to begin with we couldn't understand what we were looking at; there was a triple legged arch rising up above a large circular stone platform. There were two ways of getting down to it, and one leading up and away from it on the far side of the area.

In front of us we could see the rim of a sunken ruin, so we cautiously made our way forwards to investigate..." I pause. Farkas' eyes are large with anticipation. "We did not see the file of skeletons until they were on top of us."

"But they make so much noise!"

I duck my head in embarrassment. "This one was preoccupied with the view." I straighten as I continue the story. "They were positioned perfectly though; with a full draw of my bow the arrow flew straight through the line, shattering each skeleton as it went."

Farkas blinks in wonder.

"We moved around the area vigilantly, but were careful to not go any further forwards, for fear of getting something else's attention. We also finally had a chance to look into the sunken cairn and found it to be occupied by a couple of coffins.

We were getting tired though so we went back to the first ruin we found and made our camp for the night." I grimace in remembrance. "We slept in shifts that night, in case any drauger woke."

"Done that before." Farkas comments companionably.

"So the next day we wake refreshed and eager to explore... until we take another look at the triple arch." I sigh. "Perched on the top is a gloriously bronze coloured dragon, contently sunning itself."

Farkas grimaces. "Not good. Bronze ones are supposed to be harder to kill, right?"

I groan. "Yees and unfortunately for us it happens to look around at that exact moment and catches sight of Kara's gleaming steel armour. It wastes no time in taking flight to engage us in battle.

Kara and I had been fighting together so long that we no longer had to verbally communicate what we are about to do; she darts forwards to distract it while I take careful aim with my bow, aiming for the wings to force it to land."

Farkas frowns. "But-"

I laugh. "I know, she has a Shout that can do that, but, Shouts take time to recharge. Why waste one when I can bring the dragon down instead?"

His face clears and he smiles in understanding.

"So I shoot. And shoot, and shoot. My fourth arrow finally lands in the right area and disrupts the dragon's flight; unfortunately he comes down straight at us." I pause for another swig of beer. "I sprint up the cairn for an advantage while Kara Shouts 'marked for death' at the dragon and proceeds to chip away at its foreleg. "

"Oh they don't like that."

I smile. "Not at all. And after a few minutes he manages to take flight again." I shake my head as I remember the next part of this saga. "His tail catches me as he swings around; I tumble over the edge into the cairn and disrupt the coffins... surprise! It's a fucking Deathlord.

So I run for dear life back up the stairs to find in the meantime the dragon has flown off over a ridge out of sight – though I remember I could hear some distant roars – and Kara is thankfully available to intercept my pursuer."

Farkas' bottle is dangling forgotten in his limp hand.

"I should say that this Deathlord had a massive great Ebony Warhammer." I fling my arms as far apart as they'll go and he laughs in childish delight. "It wasn't far from dying when it got pissed and Shouted at me; my bow was wrenched from my hand and flew straight over the cairn and down onto the ceremonial platform.

Kara was finishing the Deathlord off so I hopped down the cairn to go fetch my bow, but halfway there a dark shadow bears down on me-"

Farkas gasps. "The dragon!"

"Ha yes, returned with a vengeance." I rumble. "I dodged to the side just in time, but my bow was now the other side of the dragon, and it had me in its sight. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. I remember that time seemed to freeze for a long moment as we sized each other up, and then it reared its head up, and I rolled to the side, knowing full well it was about to breath fire..."

I jolt as a warm hand falls heavily on my leg. Concern swims in Faraks' eyes.

"Kara came tearing up then and Shouted at it. I was finally able to sprint under the dragon to get to my bow. I do not think I have words for how much relief I felt when I got my hands on the dragon bone.

But when I turned around I had found that the dragon swung its head after me. Its eye was at just the right height. My right hand was empty – Krosis in my left – and I reacted on instinct; I swung my fist at him."

To my delight Farkas chokes on his breath. I cannot help a grin forming.

"As you may imagine the dragon was not pleased." I say with much amusement. "I had already whipped around and made a break for the cover of one of the arch legs... this one didn't see the coffin until this one was tripping over the lid."

Faraks groans loudly while I snicker.

"It was a Dragon Priest, without a mask that we could see, who no doubt wished he had not awoken by the time I had finished with him." I grin viciously to myself. "They are much softer on the knuckles you know."

"No way!" Farkas exclaims "You killed a Priest with your bare hands?"

I wink at him. "Kara was busy driving Dawnbreaker through the dragon's skull so I thought I had better deal with the Priest." I shrug. "They are not that difficult to kill once you get up close." I admit.

His jaw is hanging loose against his chest. "By Ysmir why hasn't Kara told us that story before?"

I shrug. Only Sheogorath knows what that woman thinks half the time.

We sit in silence for a while, me drowning the memories in several beers, even as Farkas stares at me with awe and respect plainly shining on his face. A handsome face after a fashion. Human faces are so strange, but I find the strong jaws – especially of the larger Nords – quite fascinating, and being able to see their bulging muscles... Behave yourself Senka!

I blink myself back to reality.

"Your turn Nord." I state coyly.

He clears his throat and sits himself straight. "Okay, um, well I can't say I've ever punched anything to death..." I chuckle brightly and lean forwards in anticipation. "But this one fight has stuck with me because it was the closest I've had since I was a teen."

He blushes a little under my attention.

"It was a sabre-cat." He starts hesitantly. When I make no protest he smiles apologetically. "Vilkas and I were coming back from a contract in Riften. We were near Darkwater Crossing. It came out of no-where and landed on my brother before either of us heard it."

I feel my eyebrows rise in surprise.

"I pulled my sword on it before it could hurt him, but he was out cold, hit his head on a rock I think, obviously the noise caught its attention and it turned on me." His brows furrow. "It was a big cat. A male I think because it was _that_ much bigger. I still have the pelt strung up in my rooms back at Jorrvaskr – I'll show you when we get back."

I smile and nod. If it had been born a Senche or a Pahmar I might have had a problem, but I am no more related to a sabre cat than I am a Dunmer, and I have killed a few of the vicious beasts myself so I have no room to protest.

"Anyway, this cat nearly killed me; ripped my breast plate clean off it did and broke a couple of ribs when it bit me. Gouged a hole in my helmet too." He grins. "A close fight. I was exhausted but I managed to stick my skinning dagger into its neck – caught a vessel."

I sit back in relief.

"Funny isn't it? I still think of that fight as one of my best even though Kara has brought me up against Dragons and Deathlords." He muses thoughtfully.

"You enjoy a challenge." I answer. "A lot of people do. I certainly do. It is why I took up thieving instead of doing something productive with myself. I enjoyed the challenge more than having a need to steal things from people."

We smile at each other with newfound understanding.


	20. Chapter 20

Followers, just to warn you I have done a tiny bit of editing up until Chapter 12 - just put in some authors notes and polished things up a bit, however you really ought to go back and read from Chapter 12 onwards, as I realised there was a massive posting error - I can only apologise for that, and I will check my postings each time I do.

Thank you for your patience :) 24/02/15

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 16<span>

The sun finally dips below the city walls causing shadows and chill to creep over Solitude like invisible mist. Every citizen from the gates to the Blue Palace has barricaded themselves inside their houses, lit by the massive fire pits so common in Skyrim, and the only people aside from I that are braving the cold are the Guards.

Kara, Petra and Kodlak arrived today mid afternoon and set about making a scene with great fervour. Kara especially looked to be enjoying herself a little too much. Luckily Kodlak seemed to calm her down before she started Shouting.

Currently the trio are sitting down to a late dinner with Tullius, to 'negotiate', in the Blue Palace alongside the Jarl and her Housecarl. An unavoidable circumstance considering Kara is (one of the) Thanes of this city.

Athis and Tovar also arrived earlier, maybe four hours ago, soaked and frozen to the bone, and they too are in position; I could hear them in the Skeever as I snuck into Castle Dour.

Farkas is in the Temple courtyard looking only slightly suspicious as he lollygags. They only reason he has yet to be arrested is the reduced number of guards in the area. Which brings me to our plan from yesterday: The crates of drink were dropped off just as the majority of the evening shift where sitting down to dine, courtesy of a Thane (I wonder who?), with compliments for their excellent work.

Hours later and the effects are still being felt amongst the guard. I feel sorry for the healers. What we have now is basically a skeleton crew; key positions only, although they number about the normal crew.

As for myself? I have already made my way inside Castle Dour and ghosted up one floor undetected.

Currently I am perched atop a low bookshelf in a hallway, waiting as a guard patrols at a slow meandering pace, suppressing the impatient twitching of my tail. I am barefoot as is usual due to the fact that even the humanoid Khajiit have pads on our paws. We walk softly-silently because of our pads. The flagstone floors are nasty cold though.

This job is not the most engaging I have been on. In fact it ranks somewhere in the middle excitement wise. If it wasn't for the high stakes this job would be pretty much at the bottom of my list.

The guard finally passes me so I creep into the next room, a sort of storeroom, and up onto the next floor. This should be the floor the axe is held on if my information is correct – which it always is.

For tonight's escapade Farkas has let me borrow his Longsword paraphernalia so I can carry Wuuthrad on my back instead of juggling it and the shield. Our stuff has already been affixed to our horses earlier today, due to a need to get away from the city as quickly as possible.

Outside it is now truly dark and unfortunately for me the twin moons are shining brightly – Messur nearly full – between the few clouds that are lazily drifting from the west. It will no doubt be frosty tomorrow morning.

Carefully I peak around the doorway into the large room;

Wuuthrad and Shield are displayed grotesquely in a large glad cabinet like sad museum pieces. They may be relics of a bygone age, but to the Companions they are founding relics, and as such demand more respect than this.

Two Legionnaire's stand guard on opposing walls - the two doors and the cabinet in full view of the both of them - with many brightly lit torches lighting the otherwise dim room, much to my consternation.

What I would give for some ice magic right now.

I encountered the same sort of problem in the Twilight Sepulcher many moons ago, before I was Guildmaster. That time thankfully there were some well hidden pull chains I could use to set off some ice runes.

This time not only do I doubt there are conveniently placed chains and ice runes, but I also have an audience who probably would not appreciate my meddling. I don't think even an invisibility potion could help me right now.

Later – Nocturnal knows how much later – I huff silently to myself. My legs are starting to get stiff and no solution has presented itself to me. At least the two guards seem to be as bored as I; I have been treated to a hysterical game of I Spy (summit beginning with...S. Stone. Yup. _I_ spy summit beginning with... F. Flagstone. Yup).

"That's it!"

The sudden exclamation nearly causes me to shriek in surprise.

"I need to piss and I'm not doing it where you can see." The one my side of the room blurts.

The other, taller, one grunts in acknowledgement as his fellow makes for the door I am lingering in. An idea forms even as I scramble behind the door out of sight. The Legionnaire passes me by without pause.

Cautiously I hustle after the retreating guard. As I'd hoped he turns off into a small closed door latrine area.

With a smile I allow him to relieve himself before swooping down on him. I reach around him to clamp my paws over his nose and mouth. Instantly he begins to struggle so I kick in his knee to take him off balance.

One fierce struggle later I return to the room housing Wuuthrad only a little ruffled.

I almost get spotted by the remaining guard; he is staring with much angst at the doorway. I am surprised there are only two guards inside this room – I would have thought that even with the reduced numbers they would have managed a couple more in here.

My tail begins to sweep back and forth as I anxiously try to decide my next move. If I try to out-wait the remaining guard his unconscious partner could wake up and sound the alarm. On the other hand there is no way I will be able to make it into the room for I will be spotted immediately.

The decision is taken from my hands when the guard strides forwards, towards me and the door, obviously intent on making sure his partner is alright. Again I scrabble back behind the doorway, but this time I check my breathing by pulling the hood of my Nightingale armour back up.

His quiet footsteps stop just the wrong side of the door for my comfort.

For a moment I believe the guard will leave the room to find his fellow, but instead his common sense kicks in and he turns away, it matters not to me because either way his back is to me. Quickly I slide out from behind the door and stalk after the guard.

This time I have to take his knee out first due to the difference in our height, his sharp cry makes me cringe mentally, and he puts up far more of a fight than his cohort, but again I come away ruffled and victorious.

Aware that the night is slipping away from me I prop the guard against a wall and proceed to douse the lights with some water from the various flower vases scattered around the walls. Hopefully this precaution should hide the missing weaponry for as long as possible.

Finally I turn to the display case. I feel uneasy about this... I wonder if they've trapped it.

My eyes fall to the fall in suspicion. No flagstones stick out either in colour, size or depth. I look to the ceiling and walls next to try and spot holes poison darts are loaded in. Nothing. No bear traps. No fire pits or spike holes.

I stop two steps from the case and crouch in front of the lock.

No triggers and lines are attached to the lock mechanism or the cabinet anywhere. The lock itself doesn't look like anything special, which means it is probably a right bastard to open (many years of experience are behind this observation).

Gods I could do with Nocturnal's Key right now.

I shake the thought away easily and retrieve my pick packet from the pocket in the armour at the small of my back. Two standard picks I twist into the braids of my hair – for emergencies – but my packet contains a full set for all my needs.

On a sigh I slide my tools into the lock and set to work.

Where my mother was a pickpocket prodigy, my talents lay in lockpicking, a skill that Kara found immensely profitable – some of those old Nordic chests were damn difficult to get into!

With a satisfying click the case springs open, however I have no time to enjoy my victory because I instantly roll off to the side. My seeming paranoia is justified when a short stream of white gas poufs up into the air.

Probably only knock-out gas but better safe than dead.

After a minute I resume my rescue attempt, and with axe on my back and shield in place on my arm I head for the other door. This leads to the top of the walls where only three guards are on duty tonight.

The door opens silently, thank Nocturnal, but I hesitate when I spot a guard maybe five feet from me looking out onto the city. After a minute I slip out into the cold and come up behind the city guard. For the third time I smother a guard into unconsciousness.

After propping him up I move on around the walls towards the Temple. Below me is the courtyard that the Emperor's Cousin was murder in. Lounging in one of the pews is the large form of my partner in crime.

Directly below my position is a high platform of stonework I can drop onto with some careful manoeuvring. From there I silently drop into the courtyard. Farkas spots my movement and rises uncertainly from the bench.

"Go." I hiss softly.

Unquestioningly the Nord strolls out into the main yard of Castle Dour. Five sets of eyes follow his weaving progress. I slip by in the opposite direction, heart thumping in ears, heading for the stairs under the Windmill.

My candlelight spell flickers dangerously because of my lack of focus.

This one is thankful for Nocturnal's armour for it keeps the night chill away as I hurry for the EEC port. Farkas is to meet me on the other side with our horses. The water seems to be very still tonight yet all the docked ships are creaking loudly, winding my nerves tight.

I am halfway over the arch when I notice the Company guards are conspicuous by their absence. I can see only one pair, huddling together, in a bright pool of light. There should be four more guards on patrol around the area.

Unease fall leaden in my stomach causing me to dash quite madly the rest of the way over the stonework. The two guards both seem to be looking up towards the tress, where Farkas was meant to hide in the denser coverage.

My stomach plummets into my feet the instant I realise I am treading in sticky blood.


	21. Chapter 21

I've just had a guest review, my first btw, thank you muchly!, and a previous reviewer both ask for sequels.

Unfortunately I can't promise anything but I do have some ideas. I'll try my best to get something done.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 17<span>

"Farkas?" I murmur.

Not again. Please Mara not again.

"Sen! We need to go."

I sag in relief when his large frame storms through the undergrowth.

"Come on Sen." He urges. When I don't move he tugs me forwards somewhat gently. I can feel the sticky residue of blood on his hand.

"What happened?" I ask.

He growls. "Got spotted. The first two pulled their weapons. The other pair is out cold."

Alarm raises the fur on my neck; Farkas has yet to put his cloak on. "Did they see your face?"

"Don't think so, but we'd better get going. Don't wanna hang around when they wake."

While we had been whispering together Farkas had divested me of his borrowed gear and strapped Wuuthrad to his own back and I had secured the Shield to my horse's saddle. Both horses have been thankfully quiet so far.

Finally free of the weighty objects this one jumps lithely onto her smelly beast. Farkas' mount is far less graceful but we have no time to even smile about it.

We push our horses at their full speed – how I wish we had the swifter Cyrodiilic steeds – for several hours, even racing dangerously through Dragonsbridge. There were shouted admonishments but we were gone too quickly to hear them. Also we pass two Guard patrols along the road but between our speed and the darkness they do not seem to take notice of the weapons we carry.

I persuade Farkas that sleeping in a cave a little ways from the road would be safe enough but he insisted that we sleep in shifts just in case. My plan is to run on as little sleep as possible to keep ahead of the news – at least until we get to the relay point.

We manage to shave off two days from our journey with our hard riding and we gain an extra day in Markarth hold due to the lack of Forsworn. This one likes to think that they had learnt not to mess with us.

Currently we are half a league away from Broken Tusk Camp running on little more than four hours sleep a night. Our horses too are exhausted. At least our food supplies are not running low (gods do I hate salted meat!).

This night is another chilly one not helped by the thick clouds overhead. Only the wolves are out tonight – little else can see in this darkness and the sabre-cats will be seeking shelter from the coming rain.

I spot Vilkas and Ria in the light of the large bonfire the giants make long before they spot us. The pair looks quite cosy leaning side by side against a boulder. I presume from the silence that they have dealt with the resident giant.

As arranged this one lets out a piercing whistle similar to that of a bird of prey.

Ria jumps in the air in fright and almost end up on her face which sets off Vilkas' temper. He is giving me the stink eye right up until he spots the familiar long handle over his brother's shoulder. I hide my grin as The Vicious One is rendered speechless.

I pass the shield off to the ever excitable Ria while the twins exchange Wuuthrad and a rather heated discussion. There are less frowny faces than normal which I take as a short-lived victory. I certainly expect no verbal thanks from any but Kara and Kodlak.

Farkas and I watch in silence as our relief rides away into what remains of the night. Now we are to find a cave to catch up our sleep.

The next morning we wake to the piercing frightened whinny of a horse.

We bolt from our shallow cave right into a threesome of feeding wolves; my horse died sometime during the early hours. Farkas' mare is nowhere in sight.

Farkas gets a nasty bite just above his knee as he puts the biggest one down. My arrow fells the blooded one. The last is taken down by Farkas again. I spot a fourth that seems to have been crushed under a horses' hoof.

"You go find the horse." Farkas orders. "I gotta sort this bite out. Careful – gods knows what's out there now." He warns seriously.

I dismiss his concern with a fleeting smile.

I follow the single bloody hoof print off a little ways to the South to find Farkas' mare standing nervously next to a tiny pool of water. The work horses of Skyrim are nearly as fearless as their master – and just as bloody strong – they rarely bolt unless they are feeling ill, are injured, or facing a dragon.

To my gratitude the horse perks up in recognition and allows me to lead her back to our camp. I prefer walking but loosing most of our gear would have sucked Drauger balls.

"So what happens now?" Farkas asks as I sit by the camp fire. A hunk of dark meat is sizzling away in the single pan we brought. Horse – yuk.

I shrug. "Our adventure ends I suppose." I answer. "I am not sure Tullius would bring his forces to Whiterun; he is trying to court the Jarl, yes?"

My cohort nods thoughtfully. "Could he arrest Kara?"

I scoff. "For what? He iss his own witness. There is very little to link Wuuthrad's disappearance to Kara anyway aside from there being some of her fellows lingering around the city. Circumstantial." I pause. "I suppose he could _try_ to stop her leaving the city..."

Farkas gwaffs. "Isn't he supposed to be smart?"

I grin. "I am not so sure; he did steal from the Companions you know."

The Nord outright laughs.

By the time we get back to Whiterun the news of Wuuthrad's triumphant but mysterious return is getting old. Not old enough for people to stop speculating about it, but old enough that the citizens are not bothering the Companions about it anymore.

In the Boat-hall the mood is nothing less than buoyant.

The axe sits proudly in its wall sconce while the shield has been mounted on a specially made plaque in the harbinger's quarters. It will be a lovely surprise for Kodlak when he gets back.

I turn away first in time to spot Vilkas and two of the newest recruits disappears clutching bags of gold. Farkas takes longer to move. From the corner of my eye I note the shiny wetness of his eyes. I wonder what this means to him?

It is pretty obvious that the others think of the waraxe as nothing more than a founding artefact, they were more concerned with their honour and competency as viewed by the rest of world; they do not seem to hold the weapons in their own right. If that makes sense.

I mean when I brought the restored Crown of Barenziah to the thieves they practically fell over themselves to wrench it from me; they recited the stories word for word with a reverence that would frighten others, and I found out later that more than half did not know that the Paragon actually benefited them at all.

This is not so with Wuuthrad.

Finally Farkas turns away from the wall. His face is in his normal cheery demeanour.

"The Jarl is afraid." Aela intones seriously from our left. She motions us to a smaller side table to sit in conference. "He came here yesterday and demanded we stand with his guards – he fears Tullius will invade like Ulfric plans to." Her amber eyes glitter predatorily.

I frown in concern. "It seems unlikely..." I answer slowly.

"Unlikely he would take Wuuthrad too." Farkas points out.

We all frown at the table as the truth of that statement sinks in.

"He and Stormcloak could turn Whiterun into a battlefield; they're both desperate for the city." Aela spits out angrily. "Our actions may have just forced Tullius' hand in this. Maybe it would have been better if we had broken neutrality." She growls.

I am about to reply when the doors are flung open. The words die on my tongue as a couple of crates of drink precede Vilkas into the hall. A cheer goes up from everyone but Aela and I. One crate is full of sweet treats.

The discussion is suspended for now.

Two drinks of mead later – should I say two for me, four or five for the rest of the hall – I am giggling hysterically, woes forgotten, as the twins sing a dirty ditty. Aela too is grinning stupidly now totally relaxed.

This is supposedly just a 'pre celebratory party' but things are looking to get noisy.

Two more meads later the room is spinning too quickly for my liking. I watch on in lazy interest as two of the 'whelps' – a High elf maiden and an imperial – jump up and begin to take clumsy swings at each other.

"Pfft amah- armatures." I scoff.

"You think you could do better?" The Vicious One barks from further down the table.

I give him the stink eyes. "Suuure."

"C'mon then!" He roars bounding to his feet. He stumbles. I grin sloppily as I stagger to my feet.

The two opponents back off as Vilkas and I tumble into position. This seems to be pretty normal behaviour – I do vaguely recall Kara telling me she ended up in a fist-fight the first time she entered the hall.

If Vilkas hits me I will be out. But that is a pretty big IF. I feel myself grin with all my teeth.

I sway lightly on the spot as I eye the large Nord up. I belatedly realise he is not in armour.

His left fist comes out in an uppercut;

I dodge the first swing,

His right comes straight at my face;

I duck the second,

His left come back out

The third doesn't even come near me.

I snap out a right hook that manages to connect, the tiny sober part of my mind registers in surprise.

Vilkas, clearly beyond drunk, staggers to one side and collapses face first onto the dirt floor.

The room still frantically. The sober part of brain notes this could end badly.

A snore rips from him.

Hearty cheers erupt around me much to my satisfaction. Yet another mead is pressed into my hand and I take a sip.

It's the last thing I remember.


	22. Chapter 22

So dear readers, this is the penultimate chapter! (Plus a short epilogue; because a story isn't a story without one)

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 18 <span>

I crack my eye open carefully. My head feels like it is being stabbed, my sinuses stuffed full of wool, and my eyes dry and gritty. Lovely. My tongue is as furry as the rest of me now and there is a dreadful sweetness to the rotten flavour of my mouth.

My stomach feels leaden and uncomfortable, but by Stendarr's mercy I have no urge to vomit.

The room finally comes into focus. I do not recognise it at first but a closer perusal at the armour pile in the corner and the rack of weapons right next to it reassures me I made it to – or someone put me in – Kara's room.

I manage to carefully drop myself to the floor and use the wall for leverage to get myself upright – bow to my gracefulness inferior humans. Ha.

Carefully I make my way to Kara's wardrobe and pull out my spare set of clothes. My boots I find just inside the door.

A quick perusal of my person proves I have not got suspect dried liquid on me – alcohol or otherwise – so I shakily change and make my way from the room.

In the hallway there are many terrible snores issuing from the many rooms either side of me. The Khajiit caravans are just as bad.

Tilma grins at me as I pass her. Nothing she hasn't seen a thousand times before, and no doubt in a much worse state than I.

In the main area upstairs I am unsurprised to behold a sea of bottles on every surface available.

Vilkas is _still_ passed out on the floor – I swear I didn't hit him that hard! – although his twin has rolled him half under a table out of the way.

"His eye is nice and black." Farkas informs me with much aplomb. He seems to be perfectly sober and unaffected by the drink.

I glare weakly.

"Breakfast will do you good." He advises with a knowing grin. A chair beside him is kicked out invitingly.

I do not know whether it is the scent of the food or the stale mead that is turning my poor stomach but I sit anyway and begin to pick at a sweetroll Farkas is kind enough to pass me. His plate is half full of rabbit meat and a baked potato half.

"Athis and Tovar should be back today." He quietly notes around a mouthful of rabbit.

I groan. "Please say we aren't going to have another party."

I see his shoulders tremble with silent laughter even as he shakes his head in the negative.

* * *

><p>Two days after the return of Wuuthrad finds me around the back of Jorrvaskr showing Farkas what I had been taught in the way of boxing. According to my teacher – a Khajiit friend of my father I only ever knew as The Pugilist – hand-to-hand combat used to be a popular technique some two hundred years before in Cyrodiil, but now only the Khajiit seem to prize it.<p>

"So why did you start boxing?"

I pause my swings. "I honestly do not remember how I started; for as long as I can remember this one has been boxing." I frown. "It may have been my father's way of building my strength up for archery – which I didn't start until I was ten summers old."

"Do you enjoy it?"

I laugh. "Not as much as my archery - or thievery when I was younger – but with boxing I could let off steam without getting into trouble with the city guards." Farkas chuckles. "Why did you pick two-handed weapons?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I'm no good with bows for a start." I watch on as he nearly takes the training dummies head off with a one-two punch. "I'm alright with a sword and shield but I prefer just having one weapon. Two is over complicating things."

I laugh so hard I have to brace my hands on my knees to keep myself upright.

"Alright there Sen?"

"Oh Stendarr yes." I feel my whiskers twitching up into a smile. "Oh my, that was funny, but don't ever let Kara hear you say that."

"She'd beat the shit outta me." He agrees easily.

"I cannot say I disagree with you. I'm no good with a sword and shield, or even two daggers." I console my friend. "And I do not have the strength for two-handed weapons; sadly, I think I would have loved using a war-axe."

I turn to see Farkas goggling at me.

I smirk. "A tiny little thing like me, right? Unfortunately nobody in my youth wanted to train me." There were a few users in the city, but they refused with poor excuses when my father asked... even as a child I was the subject of racism, though I knew it not at the time.

"I could teach you?" He offers instantly.

I cannot help a soft smile of gratitude. "I would like that."

* * *

><p>Four days later Ria bursts into the boat-hall jabbering hysterically.<p>

There is a collective sigh of relief when she finally calms down enough to relay that the gate guards have spotted Kodlak, Petra and Kara on the road.

I dash outside as soon as the excitable woman confirms my sister's presence; I have missed her terribly this past week, no matter how much Farkas has tried to keep me occupied.

I bound over the ramparts and down the slope (a short-cut only a Khajiit would dare try) and hit the bottom at a run. Sure enough the trio are almost at the stables when I get them into view. Kara instantly skips into a weary jog.

Our reunion hug is rib crushing.

"It went okay?" She whisper asks.

"Just fine." I assure her quietly.

"Thank Nocturnal." She breaths in reply.

* * *

><p>The party the night of Kara's return was epic. We took the tables outside under the Gildergreen and bought seemingly all the Bannered Mare's mead supply much to Hilda's amusement. The local farmers did well off us too since we also bought every bit of greenery we could get our hands on - including the much hated cabbage.<p>

The huntress and I got to bond while we hunted down our meat on the plains. Her speed is unmatched, but I put more power behind my draws - so for every three arrows she fires I only fire one, but mine goes farther and will generally stick in things better.

At any rate we came back with four deer and six rabbits, two big mudcrabs and a rarely seen Pinethrush and its eggs.

Kara in one of her fits of insanity disappeared for an hour before return with a couple of jars crammed full of torchbugs. They do look lovely lingering around the main party area this clear evening. There is always a method to her madness.

Right now the party is in full swing.

I am sitting upon my favourite rocks in the shadow of the Skyforge contently looking over the party goers. On my lap is a plate full of crumbs that once were some honey-nut treats, a sweetroll and a nice hunk of venison slathered in spiced honey sauce. In my hand is a nice cold cheap beer.

There is no formal dinner tonight, but the tables are bowing under the weight off all the food we have out, and later there will be some dancing. I do believe that the children are being entertained with stories currently also.

Kodlak is looking very tired and pale now, even the citizens are noticing – as evidenced by the surreptitious glances and whispering. I think the stress the Legion put on us has worsened his condition. However he was very happy with what his Companions did with Wuuthrad's shield. He will die content at least.

It will not be long until Kara takes over.

She seems oblivious to the reasons behind the attention Kodlak is affording her, although tonight that is because she is well on her way to being shit-faced- but is nevertheless basking in it all the same, as do any of them.

I wonder what she thinks will happen when he dies? Or rather, I wonder who she thinks will take over. I must remember to ask her tomorrow. She will not welcome the responsibility; she enjoys sitting back now that her duty as Dragonborn is done. To lead again is not what she wants.

From the sly glances Aela is sending the two I think the red-head understands. Said woman is slathering over the meat laden table. Secunda is nearly full tonight, shining brightly, so she must be feeling its strong pull; she is usually much more discreet.

I wonder how the rest of the Companions will react. Of the circle only Petra is 'younger' than Kara. I hope they do not cause my soul-sister too much trouble.

Farkas I spot awkwardly conversing with a flirty looking Ysolda; a territorial hiss escapes me to my mortification so I move my gaze on.

Vilkas by contrast has a whole group of women – young to old – hanging onto his every word. Twins only in looks I have come to realise.

Petra is getting cosy to the Jarl much to his Housecarl's disgust. He doesn't look too offended. His children are imperiously watching over 'their' entertainment, though I do not think they are enjoying it. They do not enjoy anything though so the Whelps are unbothered.

Up by the Hall of the Dead the Whelps are putting on a play for the children. Wild overdone gestures and roars included and plentiful much to the youngling's delight. The rest of the members are scattered around with the citizens of Whiterun.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot a shadow slinking around the back of the houses near Jorrvaskr.

I'd recognise that stalk anywhere.

Brynjolf.


	23. Chapter 23

MY LAST CHAPTER!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 19<span>

I try to stay relaxed but I can feel my eyes narrow in annoyance and my tail wriggle in agitation.

I trace his movements all the way around the courtyard only to realise that he is looking for me amongst the party goers. No doubt the Guild heard about Wuuthrad and decided I was involved. Why they are paying me a visit is a mystery though.

I watch on as the fool sidles up to Kara but decide to leave my place of safety when he gaze goes from unimpressed to chilling. Under his no doubt stolen cloak I glimpse the deep grey Guildmaster's armour.

I reach them just in time to witness Kara land a punch on his nose. It makes me smile.

"Thanks, sister, I will take it from here." I tell her with much humour lacing my tone.

She grins viciously even as she discreetly shakes out her hand. The whispers begin in the crowd.

Brynjolf is suspiciously silent as I lead him back into the shadows of Jorrvaskr. Truthfully it does make me a little nervous for the red-head has never been sparse with his chatting. A little knot of worry forms in stomach but with practised ease I ignore the feeling and focus on the task at hand.

I lead him around the back of the hall into the training yard, where-upon I lean casually against an awning, pretending calm and disinterest. My tail thrashes lazily from side to side – a warning if anyone cared to know.

Brynjolf breaks the silence first.

"Good to see you again, lass." He ventures in his smooth voice. His eyes are guarded.

I consider what to say – witty or cutting – and how to say it – deadpan or sarcastic – before realising I really don't care. "What do you want Brynjolf?" I ask curtly.

He winces. A hand comes up to smooth back his dark red hair. There are bags under his eyes.

"The Guild heard about your latest theft." He tries.

I stare.

He shifts.

"Alright, fine, lass." The words seem to burst out without his permission, but his pacing tells me they have been on his mind for a while. "I've always been straight with you, so here it is; I want you back."

The phrasing jolts harshly at my stomach.

"I'm no good as Guildmaster. I need you to come back." He continues roughly. Desperately.

"Wait." I shake the surprise away. "I thought Vex was in charge? She certainly led the charge."

He heaves a silent sigh. His eyes darken in sorrow. "Her luck ran out. She was caught red-handed by the Markarth Jarl. She's in Cidna."

I look away. She will be in for life. Stupid bint.

"I've been Guildmaster for two weeks." He admits.

How that must rankle. One thing I found strange and intriguing about the Nord was that he was honestly happy being Second. He probably would have been happier as just a ranked member like Vex, but he had no choice. At any rate it is rare to find someone that honestly does not wish to be in the top position.

"Karliah?"

He shudders. "On the outs with Nocturnal. Niruin is nearly as useless."

I scoff. At least they did not get away with overthrowing me scot free. "Let me guess; now you are floundering you want me back in the Guild to try and fix things again like before." I state.

"Ah." His grimace is so quick if I was not looking for it I would not have seen it. At least the man does have a conscious, even if he does not listen to it all that often. "Well, yes, lass." He boldly affirms with a pathetic smirk.

My arm twitches with the need to show this Nord what real hand-to-hand combat is like, but fortunately for him this one resists the urge. "And if I did," I begin softly, "how do I know I am not going to thrown back out once my 'services' are no longer required?" I hiss.

Brynjolf flinches a little but gamely opens his mouth to spin a yarn.

"No!" I snarl. "Nothing you can say will bring me back. One-upmanship is natural in our line of work, but outright betrayal? The Cyrodiilic branch would not have stood for it."

An angry frown mars his face.

"You all made your beds, so lie in them!" I half roar.

Finally he ventures to jump in. "Now lass I know we should have stuck up for you against Vex and the other two, it was wrong of us not to-"

"Wrong!?" I yowl in frustration. "Just bloodless version of Mercer methinks!"

Brynjolf lunges for me before I realise what is happening, and the next thing I know I am being pressed hard into the awning, Brynjolf's arm across my throat, restraining but not choking, and his face inches from mine.

"Now that is not true Senka!"

I bare my teeth in warning. "Perhaps not quite." I concede. My knee sharply comes up between his legs, which he wasn't expecting, as evidenced by his pained staggering. "But close enough, Bryn." I shift away from the awning and the tall man, glad for some breathing space. "But I mean it. Nothing you could say would bring me back. Trust is not easy for our kind, you know that, and the Guild has lost mine."

He seemingly shrugs my words off with hard eyes. "I brought you into the Guild, lass, you owe me-"

"Ha!" I exclaim in disbelief before I can stop myself. "I pulled the Guild back from the brink of collapse nearly by myself: I owe you nothing." I snarl.

We stare at each other.

The truth is in his silence. He has nothing to hold over my head to bring me back. Not even Kara's friendship – they would not dare mess with her for two reasons. One is that she would easily tear the Guild to pieces one person at a time. The second is that she knows too much about them, through me, that antagonising her would bring them down.

Also Brynjolf no more brought me into the Guild than the others. He just happened to have a small job needing doing, so got to assess my skills. If any of the others had the job the outcome would still have been the same considering I had the fully restored Crown of Barenziah at hand.

But I miss them. I honestly do.

Bryn's easy going charm led him to becoming a friend quickly, and Delvin's history with my mother meant we used to swap stories most nights so he quickly became my favourite. Rune was pleasant company and quite happy to sit talking or accompany me on jobs. Vex and I more often than not completed the delicate jobs together so I had a great respect for her. Cyndric and I hunted for the Guilds meat; he was my brother from another mother.

"Alright lass." Brynjolf interrupts my thoughts. "I can see you're pretty set in your ways right now." He croons. "But you already got itchy fingers – the Guild won't go anywhere."

"Don't hold your breath." I snap. "That was for sister, nothing more."

He scoffs. "That's what they all say, lass. I'll be seeing you later."

I snarl silently as he turns his back to me. How I want to jump on him and rip out his stupid tongue. That would show him what I think of his stupid offer. A silent roar rumbles in my chest until I lose sight of him in the shadows of Belethors's goods store.

I find myself at an angry loss. No more do I have the wish to stay at the party but Kara will want me to hang around and cheer up. Neither do I particularly wish to be on my own to brood about the visit. I sigh in vexation.

"Trouble?"

I start but relax as Farkas' large chilled hand drops supportively on my shoulder. I clutch at it.

"Nothing I could not handle." I calmly state.

"Not what I meant." He corrects me.

I smile shakily up at him. "I know."

"Will they keep bothering you?" He reiterates gravely. His brow creases in concern.

I tuck myself into his side and allow him to turn us back towards the party. "Bryn might, but not for a while now he has seen that I am settled here." I venture. "The others will want to see me for themselves I suspect, but they won't keep on at me like he will."

"I don't like him." Farkas growls as we join the edges of the crowd.

"You'll hopefully never see him again." I comment.

The first line of 'Ragnar the Red' is yelled enthusiastically by Mikel. A flute joins in a second later.

"He wants you back." Farkas parrots carefully.

Finally I note the strange possessiveness of the sentence. "Why does it sound like he wasn't talking about just the Guild?"

Farkas shifts guiltily. "It sounds like you had a thing."

My nose scrunches up in a little disgust. "He is easy on the eyes, but Bryn is all smoothness and no sincerity. I've never been attracted to him." I smile a little wistfully, a look Farkas catches so I explain. "I had a thing with a fellow thief called Rune. He was sweet and sincere but there was something missing." I shrug. "Ancient history."

Farkas chuckles. "Yeah I used to see Ysolda a few years back."

Farkas' bulk is keeping little old me from being crushed by the busily moving crowd – dancing has now erupted in front of the table Mikel is using as his stage – until the nearest people part to allow the wobbling form of Kara to get through.

"Ooooo aren't you two just nice and cosy?" She giggles childishly. Two opened bottles of wine are clutched in her hands but her gesturing nearly causes one to go flying, which I deftly catch. "Reflexes!" She yells brightly and promptly throws the other at my face. Sadly I anticipated that move and manage to catch it without too much dripping down me.

I glare in disgruntlement as she grins widely and Farkas gwaffs into his hand.

"You know I always wondered what it would be like to fuck a Khajiit." She blurts shamelessly. Farkas' laugh turns into a choking cough and I am afraid my mouth drops open like a yawning cavern. "You have such soft fur... D'ya think Ma'dran would be willing?"

Her brightly asked question leaves me spluttering like a wet Redguard.

"What?" She directs at Farkas. "He's pretty, and nice, and usually doesn't swindle me out of too much money. I think he likes me you know." She confides loudly. She suddenly glares. "It's not like I want to fuck Vilkas."

I shudder, ew, and decide to answer before she thinks of anything worse. "Just ask him sister."

She nods thoughtfully. "Remind me."

And with that she whips around and lunges gleefully into the crowd slurring the first line of 'The Dragonborn Comes'. She has a terrible singing voice at the best of times; drunkenness only seems to make her sing louder.

I take a massive fortifying gulp of the drink I confiscated from her. Alto wine, yuk.

"Never dull when she's around." Farkas observes unnecessarily.

I laugh in agreement. "Has she ever told you guys about Sam?" I question slyly.


	24. Chapter 24

So this is it! The last of the last.

Thank you so much for reading the fic. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing and posting it!

Watch this space!

Much love!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 20<span>

"And that, son, is the end of the story." The Khajiit rumbles.

The sun has long dipped below the roofline of the houses giving the sky a lovely warm orange and red glow. Farkas had at some point in the tale poured an armful of logs onto the firepit to bring in some much needed warmth. Even in the Whiterun plains the winter months are cold.

"Aww but mama!" His bottom lip trembles.

She grins over at him, perched happily on his father's lap. Some time ago she gave up her place to get a drink and found it occupied when she got back. Not that she minds much. They should enjoy cuddle time as much as possible; Khajiit younglings get independent quicker than humans. She was about the same age when her parents gave up cuddling her; it must be the human in him that is making him develop slower.

"No buts." Senka admonishes. "It is supper time now, and then you need a bath, and your bed."

As if on cue Kara's stomach gives up an almighty rumble causing the boy and Kara to snicker. Farkas at least manages to hide his amusement behind his hand. Senka sighs and ladles up the rest of the stew and hands out hunks of crusty bread.

"What happened with the Civil War?" Her son asks suspiciously.

Kara and Senka share a vicious smile over their stew bowls.

"As we left it my contacts were helping cause mayhem amongst their ranks, specifically we were concentrating on Markarth Hold." Senka recites. "By the end of the story Markarth had been taken back by the Stormcloaks – although the news reached us a few days after the party at the Gildergreen."

The boy hums in understanding.

"From what I was told the Stormcloaks were then turning their gazes on Riften." Senka recites. "They took Riften not long after... maybe a month and a half later. It was a very quick take over. The number of people signing up to the Stormcloaks had tripled, but because they took the profitable silver mines they were easily able to keep up with demands. "

"It was a major kick up the backside for the Legion to lose the cities." Kara comments smugly as an aside to the slightly lost youth.

He grins wickedly in understanding.

Silence reins as the denizens of Breezehome tuck into their evening meal.

A month after Senka found she was expecting Kara presented Farkas and she with a cleared out Breezehome – moved her stuff either into the Harbingers quarters or into her other homes – as both a wedding and baby present.

However the half Breton still spends at least four meals a week at her old home. Not always supper, her duties won't allow it, but the meal never makes any difference to her. She is just happy that her sister is happy.

Plus she gets a child to spoil that she can give back whenever it gets cranky.

"You know kiddo there's still more to the story." She mumbles through a mouthful of bread.

He perks up.

Senka groans. "Did you really have to do that, sister?"

She cackles.

"There _is_ more, son, after all we were just friends by the end of Wuuthrad's tale. We had not fallen in love yet." Senka explains in response to his bright-eyed curiosity. "But this new tale is for another night; it is a whole other story in itself."

The child grumbles into his stew but makes no fuss. He is sleepy and his mama will tell him another day when he asks. Maybe he could ask papa? Though papa gets distracted by fight scenes a lot; the stories stop making sense then.

Kara volunteers to entertain the youngling in his bath and to tuck him in.

"Is he ready?" Farkas asks in concern once the duo disappears up the stairs.

Senka shrugs. "He wants to know husband. I won't keep it from him. The Deadra can affect children as well as adults. You remember Mephela had the Jarls youngest son in her thrall and he was what, eight summers old?"

The burly man frowns heavily at the reminder. That was a messy episode.

"Perhaps forewarning him will be a good thing?" She rhetorically asks.

Farkas murmurs his agreement before tucking the Khajiit woman under his arm. Hopefully his son won't get himself caught between Princes like his wife has managed to. Maybe one day he will walk the halls of Sovngarde. Not their trio though.

As if reading his thoughts Senka looks up at him. "It is not too late to change your mind."

He grunts. "Hircine doesn't give up followers easily."

"True, but the longer you leave it, the harder it will be to break away."

He squeezers her tight, disliking the idea of her away from his side. "I promised you _forever_."

The Khajiit purrs contently.


End file.
